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LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF
L CALIFORNIA

SHAKSPEARE'S

DRAMATIC WORKS

VOL. VII.

CONTENTS

Page.

KING LEAR 3

ROMEO AND JULIET 135

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK 247

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE 395

VOL. VII. 1

KING LEAR.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

THE story of King Lear and his Three Daughters was originally told
by Geffrey of Monmouth, from whom Holinshed transcribed it ; and in
his Chronicle, Shakspeare had certainly read it ; but he seems to have
been more indebted to the old anonymous play, entitled The True
Chronicle Hystorie of Leire, King of England, and his Three Daughters,
Gonorill, Ragan, and Cordelia ; 1605. A play with that title was entered
on the Stationers' books by Edward White, May 14, 1594 ; and there are
two other entries of the same piece, May 8, 1605, and Nov. 26, 1607.
From the Mirror of Magistrates, Shakspeare has taken the hint for the
behavior of the steward, and the reply of Cordelia to her father concern
ing her future marriage. The episode of Gloucester and his sons must
have been borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, no trace of it being found in
the other sources of the fable. The reader will also find the story of
King Lear in the second book and tenth canto of Spenser's Faerie
Queene, and in the fifteenth chapter of the third book of Warner's
Albion's England. Camden, in his Remaines, under the head of Wise
Speeches, tells a similar story to this of Lear, of Ina, king of the West
Saxons ; which, if the thing ever happened, probably was the real origin
of the fable. The story has found its way into many ballads and other
metrical pieces ; one ballad will be found in Dr. Percy's Reliques of
Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. 3d edit. The story is also to be found in
the unpublished Gesta Romanorum, and in the Romance of Perceforest
The whole of this play could not have been written till after 1603.
Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures, to which it contains so many
references, and from which the fantastic names of several spirits are

4 KING LEAR.

borrowed, was not published till that year. It must have been produced
before the Christmas of 1GOG; for, in the entry of Lear on the Stationers'
Register, on the 2Gth of November, 1G07, it is expressly recorded to have
been played, during the preceding Christmas, before his majesty at
Whitehall. Malone places the date of the composition in 1005 ; Dr.
Drake in 1G04.

" Of this noble tragedy, one of the first productions of the noblest of
poets, it is scarcely possible to express our admiration in adequate terms
Whether considered as an effort of art, or as a picture of the passions, it
is entitled to the highest praise. The two portions of which the fable
consists, involving the fate of Lear and his daughters, and of Gloster and
his sons, influence each other in so many points, and are blended with
such consummate skill, that whilst the imagination is delighted by diver
sity of circumstances, the judgment is equally gratified in viewing their
mutual cooperation towards the final result ; the coalescence being so
intimate, as not only to preserve the necessary unity of action, but to
constitute one of the greatest beauties of the piece.

"Such, indeed, is the interest excited by the structure and concate
nation of the story, that the attention is not once suffered to flag. By a
rapid succession of incidents, by sudden and overwhelming vicissitudes,
by the most awful instances of misery and destitution, by the boldest
contrariety of characters, are curiosity and anxiety kept progressively
increasing, ana with an impetus so strong as nearly to absorb every
faculty of the mind and every feeling of the heart.

" Victims of frailty, of calamity, or of vice, in an age remote and
barbarous, the actors in this drama are brought forward with a strength
of coloring, which, had the scene been placed in a more civilized era,
might have been justly deemed too dark and ferocious, but is not discor
dant with the earliest heathen age of Britain. The effect of this style
of characterization is felt, occasionally, throughout the entire play ; but
it is particularly visible in the delineation of the vicious personages of the
drama; the parts of Goneril, Regan, Edmund, and Cornwall, being loaded
not only with ingratitude of the deepest dye, but with cruelty of the most
savage and diabolical nature: they are the criminals, in fact, of an age
where vice may be supposed to reign with lawless and gigantic power,
and in which the extrusion of Closter's eyes might be such an event as

PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 5

not unfrequently occurred. Had this mode of casting his characters in
the extreme, been applied to the remainder of the dramatis personce, we
should have lost some of the finest lessons of humanity and wisdom that
ever issued from the pen of an uninspired writer ; but, with the exception
of a few coarsenesses, which remind us of the barbarous period to which
the story is referred, and of a few incidents rather revolting to credibility,
hut which could not be detached from the original narrative, the virtuous
agents of the play exhibit the manners and the feelings of civilization,
and are of that mixed fabric which can alone display a just portraiture
of the nature and composition of our species.

" The characters of Cordelia and Edgar, it is true, approach nearly
to perfection; but the filial virtues of the former are combined with such
exquisite tenderness of heart, and those of the latter, with such bitter
humiliation and suffering, that grief, indignation, and pity, are instantly
excited. Very striking representations are also given of the rough fidelity
of Kent, and of the hasty credulity of Glostev ; but it is in delineating the
passions, feelings, and afflictions of Lear, that our Poet has wrought up
a picture of human misery which has never been surpassed, and which
agitates the soul with the most overpowering emotions of sympathy and
compassion.

" The conduct of the unhappy monarch having been founded merely
on the impulses of sensibility, and not on any fixed principle or rule of
action, no sooner has he discovered the baseness of those on whom he
had relied, and the fatal mistake into which he had been hurried by the
delusions of inordinate fondness and extravagant expectation, than he
feels himself bereft of all consolation and resource. Those to whom he
had given all, for whom he had stripped himself of dignity and power,
and on whom he had centred every hope of comfort and repose in his
old age, his inhuman daughters, having not only treated him with utter
coldness and contempt, but sought to deprive him of all the respectability,
and even of the very means of existence, — what, in a mind so constituted
as Lear's, the sport of intense and ill-regulated feeling, and tortured by
the reflection of having deserted the only child who loved him, what but
madness could be expected as the result? It was, in fact, the necessary
consequence of the reciprocal action of complicated distress and morbid
sensibility; and, in describing the approach of this dreadful infliction,. in

6 KING LEAR.

tracing its progress, its height, and subsidence, our Poet has displayed
such an intimate knowledge of the workings of the human intellect, under
all its aberrations, as would afford an admirable study for the inquirer into
mental physiology. He has, also, in this play, as in that of Hamlet, finely
discriminated between real and assumed insanity; Edgar, amidst all the
wild imagery which his imagination has accumulated, never touching on
the true source of his misery ; whilst Lear, on the contrary, finds it asso
ciated with every object and every thought, however distant or dissimilar.
Not even the Orestes of Euripides, or the Clementina of Richardson, can,
as pictures of disordered reason, be placed in competition with this of
Lear: it maybe pronounced, indeed, from its truth and completeness,
beyond the reach of rivalry." *

An anonymous writer, who has instituted a comparison between the
Lear of Shakspeare and the CEdipus of Sophocles, and justly given the
palm to the former, closes his essay with the following sentence, to which
every reader of taste and feeling will subscribe : — "There is no detached
character in Shakspeare's writings which displays so vividly as this the
hand and mind of a master ; which exhibits so great a variety of excel
lence, and such amazing powers of delineation ; so intimate a knowledge
of the human heart, with such exact skill in tracing the progress and the
effects of its more violent and more delicate passions. It is in the man
agement of this character, more especially, that he fills up that grand idea
of a perfect poet, which we delight to image to ourselves, but despair of
seeing realized." f

In the same work from whence this is extracted, will be found an
article, entitled " Theatralia," attributed to the pen of Mr. Charles Lamb,
in which arc the following striking animadversions on the liberty taken
in changing the catastrophe of this tragedy in representation: — "The
Lear of Shakspeare cannot be acted. The contemptible machinery with
which they mimic the storm lie goes out in, is not more inadequate to
represent the horrors of the real elements, than any actor can be to rep
resent Lear. The greatness of Lear is not in corporal dimension, but in
intellectual : the explosions of his passions are terrible as a volcano ; they

storms turning up, and disclosing to the bottom, that rich sea, his

* Drake's Shakspeare, and his Times, vol. ii. p. -100.

f The Reflector, vol. ii. p. 139, cm Greek and English Tragedy.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 7

mind, with all its vast riches : it is his mind which is laid bare. This
case of flesh and blood seems too insignificant to be thought on ; even as
he himself neglects it. On the stage, we see nothing but corporal in
firmities and weakness, the impotence of age ; while we read it, we see
not Lear, but we are Lear, — we are in his mind ; we are sustained by a
grandeur which baffles the malice of his daughters and storms ; in the
aberrations of his reason, we discover a mighty, irregular power of rea
soning, unmethodized from the ordinary purposes of life, but exerting its
powers, as the wind blows where it listeth, at will on the corruptions and
abuses of mankind. What have looks or tones to do with that sublime
identification of his age with that of the heavens themselves, when, in his
reproaches to them for conniving at the injustice of his children, he
reminds them that ' they themselves are old ! ' What gesture shall we
appropriate to this ? What has voice or the eye to do with such things ?
But the play is beyond all art, as the tamperings with it show ; it is too
hard and stony ; it must have love-scenes, and a happy ending. It is not
enough that Cordelia is a daughter, she must shine as a lover too. Fate
has put his hook in the nostrils of this leviathan, for Garrick and his
followers, the showmen of the scene, to draw it about more easily. A
happy ending ! — as if the living martyrdom that Lear had gone through,
the flaying of his feelings alive, did not make a fair dismissal from the
stage of life the only decorous thing for him. If he is to live and be
happy after, if he could sustain this world's burden after, why all this
pudder and preparation? why torment us with all this unnecessary
sympathy ? — as if the childish pleasure of getting his gilt robes and
sceptre again could tempt him to act over again his misused station, —
as if, at his years, and with his experience, any thing was left but to die *

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

LEAR, King of Britain.

King of France.

Duke of Burgundy.

Duke of Cornwall.

Duke of Albany.

Earl of Kent.

Earl of Gloster.

EDGAR, Son to Gloster.

EDMUND, Bastard Son to Gloster.

CURAN, a Courtier.

Old Man, Tenant to Gloster.

Physician. Fool.

OSWALD, Steward to GoneriL

An Officer, employed by Edmund.

Gentleman, Attendant on Cordelia.

A Herald.

Servants to Cornwall.

GONERIL, \

REGAN, V Daughters to Lear.

CORDELIA, j

Knights attending on the King, Officers, Messengers,
Soldiers, and Attendants.

SCENE. Britain.

KING LEAR.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Room of State in King Lear's Palace.

Enter KENT, GLOSTER, and EDMUND.

Kent. I THOUGHT the king had more affected the
duke of Albany, than Cornwall.

Glo. It did always seem so to us ; but now, in the
divisioh of the kingdom,1 it appears not which of the
dukes he values most ; for equalities are so weighed,
that curiosity2 in neither can make choice of cither's
moiety.3

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord ?

Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I
have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I
am brazed to it.

Kent. I cannot conceive you.

Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could : where
upon she grew round-wombed ; and had, indeed, sir, a
son for her cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed.
Do you smell a fault?

1 There is something of obscurity or inaccuracy in this preparatory
scene. The king has already divided his kingdom, and yet, when he
enters, he examines his daughters to discover in what proportions he
should divide it. Perhaps Kent and Gloster only were privy to his design,
which he still kept in his own hands, to be changed or performed as sub
sequent reasons should determine him.

2 Curiosity is scrupulous exactness.

3 Moiety is used by Shakspeare for part or portion.

VOL. VII. 2

10 KING LEAR. [ACT 1.

Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of
it being so proper.1

Glo. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some
year elder than this, who jet is no dearer in my ac
count. Though this knave came somewhat saucily into
the world before he was sent for, yet wras his mother
fair ; there was good sport at his making, and the
whoreson must be acknowledged.- — Do you know this
noble gentleman, Edmund ?

Edm. No, my lord.

Glo. My lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as
my honorable friend.

Edm. My services to your lordship.

Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better.

Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving.

Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away he
shall again. — The king is coming.

[Trumpets sound within.

Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN,
CORDELIA, and Attendants.

Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy,
Gloster.

Glo. I shall, my liege.

[Exeunt GLOSTER and EDMUND
Lear. Mean time we shall express our darker2 pur-

" pose.

Give me the map there. — Know that we have divided
In three our kingdom ; and 'tis our fast intent3
To shake; all cares and business from our age ;
Conferring5 them on younger strengths, while we,
Unburdened, crawl toward death. — Our son of Corn
wall,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,

1 Proper is comely, handsome.

i. e. more secret. — The sense is, " We have already made known our
desire of parting the kingdom. We will now discover the reasons by
which we shall regulate the partition."

e. our determined resolution. The quartos read "first intent."
* J he quartos road confirming.

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 11

We have this hour a constant will * to publish

Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife

May be prevented now. The princes, France and

Burgundy,

Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answered. — Tell me, my daughters,
(Since now we will divest us, both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state,2)
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most ?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where merit doth most challenge it. — Goneril,
Our eldest- born, speak first.

Gon. Sir, I

Do love yoft more than words can wield the matter,
Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty ;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare ;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor ;
As much as child e'er loved, or father found.
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable ;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.3

Cor. What shall Cordelia do ? Love, and be silent.

[Aside.

Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champains riched,4
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual. — What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall ? Speak.

Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister,
And prize me at her worth.5 In my true heart

1 A firm, determined will. The lines from while we to prevented now
are omitted in the quartos.

2 The two lines in a parenthesis are omitted in the quartos.

3 " Beyond all assignable quantity. I love you beyond limits, and
cannot say it is so much ; for how much soever I should name, it would
yet be more."

4 i. e. enriched. So Drant in his translation of Horace's Epistles,
1567:—

" To ritch his country, let his words lyke flowing water fall."

5 That is, " estimate me at her value ; my love has at least equal claim
to your favor. Only she comes short of me in this, that I profess myself

12 KING LEAR. [ACT I

I find, she names my very deed of love ;

Only she comes too short,— that I profess

Myself an enemy to all other joys,

Which the most precious square of sense possesses ;

And find I am alone felicitate

In your dear highness' love.

£0r. Then poor Cordelia ! [Aside.

And yet not so ; since, I am sure, my love's
More richer than my tongue.

Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom ;
No less in space, validity,1 and pleasure,
Than that conferred2 on Goneril. — Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least ; to whose young love
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Strive to be interessed : 3 what can you say, to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

Cor. Nothing, my lord.

Lear. Nothing ?

Cor. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing; speak again.

Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty
According to my bond ; nor more, nor less.

Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech a

little,
Lest it may mar your fortunes.

Cor. Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, loved me ; I
Return those duties back as are right fit,

an enemy to all other joys which the most precious aggregation of sense
can bestow." Square is here used for the whole, complement, as circle is
now sometimes used.

1 Validity is several times used to signify ivorth, value, by Shakspeare.
It does not, however, appear to have been peculiar to him in this sense.

~ The folio reads conferred ; the quartos, confirmed. So in a former
passage \ve have in the quartos confirming for conferring. The word
i-tntjinn might be used in this connection in a legal sense, as it is in instru-
im nts of conveyance.

'-' To interest and to intcresse are not, perhaps, different spellings of the
same verb, but two distinct words, though of the same import We
have inttressed in Ben Jonson's Sejanus. Drayton also uses the word in
the Preface to his Polyolbion.

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 13

Obey you, love you, and most honor you.

Why have my sisters husbands, if they say,

They love you all ? Haply, when I shall wed,

That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry

Half my love with him, half my care, and duty.

Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,

To love my father all.

Lear. But goes this with thy heart ?

Cor. Ay, good my lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender ?

Cor. So young, my lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so, — thy truth then be thy dower ;
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ;
By all the operations of the orbs,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be ;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee, from this, forever. The barbarous Scythian,,
Or he that makes his generation l messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbored, pitied, and relieved,
As thou my sometime daughter.

Kent. Good my liege,

Lear. Peace, Kent !

Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
I loved her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my sight !

[To CORDELIA.

So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father's heart from her ! — Call France ; — who stirs ?
Call Burgundy. — Cornwall, and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third ;
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
Preeminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty. — Ourself, by monthly course,
With reservation of a hundred knights,

1 His children.

14 KING LEAR. [ACT 1.

By you to be sustained, shall our abode

Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain1

The name, and all the additions2 to a king ;

The sway,

Revenue, execution of the rest,3

Beloved sons, be yours ; which to confirm,

This coronet part between you. [Giving the crown.

Kent. Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honored as my king,
Loved as my father, as my master followed,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers,

Lear. The bow is bent and drawn ; make from the
shaft.

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
The region of my heart ; be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old

man ?

Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak,
When power to flattery bows ? To plainness honor's

bound,

When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom ; 4
And, in thy best consideration, check
This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ;
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound
Reverbs5 no hollowness.

Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more.

Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies,6 nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive.

Lear. Out of my sight !

1 Thus the quarto ; folio, " we shall retain."
" All the titles belonging to a king."

3 By « the execution of the rest," all the other functions of the kingly
office are probably meant

4 The folio reads, " reserve thy state : " and has falls instead of
" stoops to folly."

5 This is, perhaps, a word of the Poet's own : meaning the same as re
verberates.

The expression to wage against is used in a letter from Guil. Webbe

> Kobt Wilmot, prefixed to Tancred and Gismund, 1592:— "You shall

not be able to wage against me in the charges growing upon this action."

SC. I.]

KING LEAR. 15

Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain
The true blank l of thine eye.

Lear. Now, by Apollo,

Kent. Now, by Apollo, king,

Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.

Lear. O vassal ! miscreant !

[Laying his hand on his sword.

Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear.

Kenfr Do;

Kill tfiy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift,
Or, whilst I can vent clamor from my throat,
I'll tell thee, thou dost evil.

Lear. Hear me, recreant !

On thine allegiance, hear me ! —
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, ^
(Which we durst never yet,) and, with strained pride,
To come betwixt our sentence and our power,
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear ;)
Our potency made2 good, take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from diseases 3 of the world ;
And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom. If, on the tenth day following,
Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death. Away ! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revoked.

Kent. Fare thee well, king; since thus thou wilt

appear,

Freedom4 lives hence, and banishment is here.
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,

[To CORDELIA.

That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said !-
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,

\To REGAN and GONERIL.

1 The blank is the mark at which men shoot.

2 « They to whom I have surrendered my authority, yielding me the
ability to dispense it in this instance." Quarto B. reads "mofee good.

3 Thus the quartos. The folio reads « disasters." By diseases are meant
uneasinesses, inconveniences. f

4 The quartos read "Friendship;" and in the next line, instead ot
« dear shelter," "protection."

10 KING LEAR. [ACT 1

That good effects may spring from words of love. —

Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu ;

He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit.

Re-enter GLOSTER, with FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and
Attendants.

Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

Lear. My lord of Burgundy,
We first address towards you, who with this king
Hath rivalled for our daughter. What, in the least,
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love ? 1

Bur. Most royal majesty,

I crave no more than hath your highness offered,
Nor will you tender less.

Lear. Right noble Burgundy,

When she was dear to us, we did hold her so ;
But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands ,
If aught within that little, seeming2 substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
She's there, and she is yours.

Bur. I know no answer.

Lear. Sir,

Will you, with those infirmities she owes,3
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dowered with our curse, and strangered with our oath,
Take her, or leave her ?

^ Bur. Pardon me, royal sir ;

Election makes not up4 on such conditions.

Lear. Then leave her, sir ; for, by the power that

made me,
I toll you all her wealth. — For you, great king,

[ To FRANCE.

1 A quest is a seeking or pursuit : the expedition in which a knight was
engaged i.s oflen so named in the Faerie Queen.
~ Seeming here means specious.

3 i. e. owns.

4 That is, I cannot decide to take her upon such terms ; or, such
conditions leave me no choice.

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 11

I would not from your love make such a stray,

To match you where I hate ; therefore beseech you

To avert your liking a more worthier

b

way,

Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed
Almost to acknowledge hers.

France. This is most strange !

That she, that even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favor ! Sure, her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree,
That monsters it,1 or your fore-vouched affection
Fall into taint ; 2 which to believe of her,
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle
Could never plant in me.

Cor. I yet beseech your majesty,

(If for 3 I want that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not ; since what I well intend,
I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste 4 action, or dishonored step,
That hath deprived me of your grace and favor ;
But even for want of that, for which I am richer ;
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it,
Hath lost me in your liking.

Lear. Better thou

Hadst not been born, than not to have pleased me better.

France. Is it but this ? a tardiness in nature,
Which often leaves the history unspoke,
That it intends to do ? — My lord of Burgundy,
What say you to the lady ? Love is not love,

1 In the phraseology of Shakspeare's age, that and as were convert
ible words. The uncommon verb to monster occurs again in Corio-
lanus.

2 The former affection which you professed for her must become the
subject of reproach. Taint is here an abbreviation of attaint.

3 i. e. " if cause I want," &c.

4 The quartos read, " no unclean action."

VOL. VII. 3

IS KING LEAR. [ACT I.

When it is mingled with respects,1 that stand
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
She is herself a dowry.

Bur. Royal Lear,

Give but that portion which yourself proposed,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.

Lear. Nothing. I have sworn ; I am firm.

Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father,
That you must lose a husband.

Cor. Peace be with Burgundy !

Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife.

France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being

poor ;

Most choice, forsaken ; and most loved, despised '
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon ;
Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away.
Gods, gods ! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect,
My love should kindle to inflamed respect. —
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
Is que<Mi of us, of ours, and our fair France ;
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
Shall buy this unprized precious maid of me. —
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind ;
Thou losest here, a better where2 to find.

Lear. Thou hast her, France. Let her be thine ; for

we

Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That lace of hers again. — Therefore be gone,
Without our grace, our love, our benizon. —
Come, noble Burgundy.

[Flourish. Exeunt LEAR, BURGUNDY, CORNWALL,
ALBANY, GLOSTER, and Attendants.

France. Bid farewell to your sisters.
^ Cor. The jewels of our father, with washed eyes
Cordelia leaves you ; I know you what you are ;

1 i. c. with cautious and prudential considerations.— The folio has
recants,

- //ere and where have the power of nouns.

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 19

And, like a sister, am most loath to call

Your faults, as they are named. Use well our father ;

To jour professed 1 bosoms I commit him.

But jet, alas ! stood I within his grace,

J would prefer him to a better place.

So farewell to you both.

Gon. Prescribe not us our duties.

Reg. Let your study

Be, to content your lord ; who hath received you
At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.2

Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited 3 cunning hides ;
Who cover faults,4 at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper !

France. Come, my fair Cordelia.

[Exeunt FRANCE and CORDELIA.

Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say, of what
most nearly appertains to us both. 1 think our father
will hence to-night.

o

Reg. That's most certain, and with you : next month
with us.

Gon. You see how full of changes his age is ; the
observation we have made of it hath not been little.
He always loved our sister most ; and with what poor
judgment he hath now cast her off, appears too grossly.

Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age ; yet he hath ever
but slenderly known himself.

1 Wo have hero professed for professing: It lias been elsewhere ob
served that Shakspeare often uses one participle for another.

2 Thus the folio. The quartos read : —

" And well are Avorth the worth that you have wanted."
The meaning of the passage, as it now stands in the text, is, " You well
deserve to Avant that dower, which you have lost by having failed in yo'ir
obedience.

3 That is, complicated, intricate, involved, cunning.

4 The quartos read : —

" Who covers faults, at last shame them derides."
The folio has : —

" Who covers faults, at last with shame derides."
Mason proposed to read : —

" Who covert faults, at last with shame derides."
The word ivho referring to Time.

OQ KING LEAR. [ACT I

Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been
but rash ; then must we look to receive from his age,
not alone the imperfections of long-engrafted condition,1
but therewithal, the unruly waywardness that infirm
and choleric years bring with them.

Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have
from him, as this of Kent's banishment.

Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking
between France and him. 'Pray you, let us hit togeth
er. If our father carry authority with such dispositions
as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.

Reg. We shall further think of it.

Gon. We must do something, and i'the heat.2

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Hall in the Earl o/Gloster's Castle.

Enter EDMUND, with a letter.

Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess ; 3 to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague 4 of custom ; and permit
The curiosity5 of nations to deprive6 me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue ? Why brand they us
With base ? with baseness ? bastardy ? base, base ?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality,
Than doih, within a dull, stale, tired bed,

1 i. c. temper ; (fiiulities of mind confirmed by long habit.
-- Wr. must .vfriki' u-ldlt the ?ro??',9 hot.

3 Edmund calls nature his goddess, for the same reason as we call a
bastard a natural son.

4 "Whorpfore should T submit tamely to the plague (i. c. the evil) or
injustice of custom?"

The nircAif of civil institutions, their slridncss and scrupulosity.
i; To deprive is equivalent, l.o disinherit. Jlolinshed speaks of 'the line
oi Henry before

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 21

Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake ? — Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have jour land.
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,
As to the legitimate; fine word, — legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper.
Now, gods, stand up for bastards !

Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Kent banished thus ! and France in choler

parted!

And the king gone to-night ! subscribed * his power !
Confined to exhibition ! 2 All this done

Upon the gad ! 3 Edmund ! how now ? what

news ?

Edm. So please your lordship, none.

[Putting up the letter.

Glo. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that
letter ?

Edm. I know no news, my lord.

Glo. What paper were you reading ?

Edm. Nothing, my lord.

Glo. No ? What needed then that terrible despatch
of it into your pocket ? The quality of nothing hath
not such need to hide itself. Let's see. Come, if it
be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter
from my brother, that I have not all o'erread ; for so
much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your over
looking.

Glo. Give me the letter, sir.

1 To subscribe is to yield, to surrender.

~ Erhibition is an allowance, a stipend.

3 j. e. in haste, equivalent to upon the spur. A gad was a sharp-pointed
piece of steel, used as a spur to urge cattle forward ; whence goaded for
ward. Mr. Nares suggests, that to god and gadding, originate from beinp
on the spur to go about.

00 KING LEAR. [ACT 1

/;,////. I shall offend, cither to detain or give it. The
contents, as in part. I understand them, are to blame.

Glo. Let's see, let's see.

Ed/n. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote
this but as an essay1 or taste of my virtue.

Glo. [Heads.] This policy, and reverence of age,
makes the world bitter to the best of our times ; keeps
our fortunes from us, till our oldness cannot relish them.

1 begin to find an idle and fond 2 bondage in the oppres
sion of a^ed tyranny; who sways, not as it hath power.
but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of tit is 1 may
speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him,
you should enjoy half his revenue forever, and live the
beloved of your brother, Edgar ! — Humph — Conspiracy!
— Sleep till I waked him — you should enjoy half his
revenue, — my son Edgar! — Had he a hand to write
this ? a heart and brain to breed it in ? — When came
this to yon ? Who brought it ?

Edm. Jt was not brought me. my lord, there's the
cunning of it: I found it thrown in at the casement

o

of mv closet.

Glo. You know the character to be your brother's ?

Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst
swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would fain
think it were not.

Glo. It is his.

Edm. It is his hand, my lord ; but, I hope, his heart
is not in the contents.

Glo. Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this
business ?

Edm. Never, my lord ; but I have often heard him
maintain it to be lit, that, sons at perfect age., and
lathers declining, the father should be as ward to the
son. and the son manage his revenue.

Gfo. O villain, villain! — His very opinion in the
letter! — Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, bru
tish villain ! worse than brutish ! — Go, sirrah, seek him ;

" As aii_r.wrtj/," &c. ino'ins as a trial or taste of my virtue. "To
'ftsai/, i>H
AJbolish.

Y/' IIAIO 1*0 u, it mi ur liiol" ui

a.rvm/, or ratlu-r essay, of the French word essamr? savs Baret.
~ i. e. weak and foolish.

SC. It.] KING LEAR. 23

I'll .apprehend him. — Abominable villain ! — Where is
he?

Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please
ye to suspend your indignation against my brother, till
you can derive from him better testimony of his intent,
you shall run a certain course; where,1 if you violently
proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would
make a great gap in your own honor, and shake in
pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down
my life for him, that he hath writ this to feel my
affection to your honor,2 and to no other pretence3 of
danger.

Glo. Think you so ?

Edm. If your honor judge it meet, I will place you
where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an
auricular assurance have your satisfaction ; and that
without any further delay than this very evening.

Glo. He cannot be such a monster.

\_Edvn. Nor is not, sure.

Glo. To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves
him. — Heaven and earth!4] — Edmund, seek him out;
wind me into him,5 I pray you ; frame the business
after your own wisdom ; I would unstate myself, to be
in a due resolution.6

Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently ; convey 7 the
business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.

Glo. These late eclipses in the sun and moon por
tend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature
can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself
scourged by the sequent effects.8 Love cools, friend
ship falls off, brothers divide ; in cities, mutinies ; in
countrieSj discord ; in palaces, treason ; and the bond

1 Where, for whereas.

2 The usual address to a lord.

3 i. e. design or purpose.

4 The words between brackets are omitted in the folio.

5 "Wind me into him." Another example of familiar expressive
phraseology not unfrequent in Shakspeare.

6 « I would give all that I am possessed o/*, to be satisfied of the truth.9*

7 To convey is to conduct, or carry through.

8 That is, though natural philosophy can give account of eclipses, yet
we feel their consequences.

24 KING LEAR. [ACT I.

cracked between son and father. [This villain of mine
comes under the prediction ; there's son against father.
The kiiiii falls from bias of nature ; there's father
against child. We have seen the best of our time ;
machinations, hollovvness, treachery, and all ruinous
disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves ! J]— Find
out this villain, Edmund, it shall lose thee nothing ; do
it carefully. — And the noble and true-hearted Kent
banished ! his offence, honesty ! — Strange ! strange !

[Exit.

Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the world,
that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of
our own behavior,) we make guilty of our disasters, the
sun, the moon, and the stars ; as if we were villains by
necessity ; fools, by heavenly compulsion ; knaves,
thieves, and treachers 2 by spherical predominance ;
drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedi
ence of planetary influence ; and all that we are evil
in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of
whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the
charge of a star ! My father compounded with my
mother under the dragon's tail ; and my nativity
was under ursa major ; so that it follows I am rough
and lecherous. — Tut, I should have been that I am,
had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on
my bastardizing. Edgar

Enter EDGAR.

and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the old com
edy. My cue is villanous melancholy, with a sigh like
Tom o' Bedlam. — O, these eclipses do portend these
divisions ! Fa, sol, la, mi.3

1 All between brackets is omitted in the quartos.

"- Treachers is the reading of the folio. Chaucer, in his Romaunt of
the Rose, mentions " the false trencher ;" and Spenser many times uses
the same epithet. The quartos all read treachcrers.

1 Shakspearc shows, by the context, that he was well acquainted with
the property of these syllables in solmization, which imply a series of
sounds so unnatural that aucicnl, musicians prohibited their use. The
monkish writers on music say mi contra fa, cst diabolus : the interval

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 25

Edg. How now, brother Edmund ? What serious
contemplation are you in ?

Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

Edg. Do you busy yourself with that ?

Edm. I promise you,1 the effects he writes of, suc
ceed unhappily : [as of unnaturalness between the
child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of
ancient amities ; divisions in state, menaces and male
dictions against king and nobles ; needless diffidences,
banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts,2 nuptial
breaches, and I know not what.

I i

Edg. How long have you been a sectary astronom
ical ?

Edm. Come, come ;] when saw you my father last ?

Edg. Why, the night gone by.

Edm. Spake you with him ?

Edg. Ay, two hours together.

Edm. Parted you in good terms ? Found you no
displeasure in him, by word or countenance ?

Edg. None at all.

Edm. Bethink yourself, wherein you may have of
fended him ; and at my entreaty, forbear his presence,
till some little time hath qualified the heat of his dis
pleasure ; which at this instant so rageth in him, that
with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.

Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong.

Edm. That's my fear. [I pray you, have a conti
nent3 forbearance, till the speed of his rage goes
slower ; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging,
from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord

fa mi including a tritonus or sharp fourth, consisting of three tones with
out the intervention of a semi-tone, expressed in the modern scale by the
letters F G A B, would form a musical phrase extremely disagreeable to
the ear. Edmund, speaking of eclipses as portents arid prodigies, com
pares the dislocation of events, the limes being out of joint, to the unnat
ural and offensive sounds fa sol la mi. — Dr. Burney.

1 The folio edition commonly differs from the first quarto, by aug
mentations or insertions ; but in this place, it varies by the omission of all
between brackets.

2 For cohorts some editors read courts.

3 i. e. temperate. All between brackets is omitted in the quartos.

VOL. VII. 4

26 KiiNU i^AR. [ACT I.

speak. Pray you, go; there's my key.— If you do stir
abroad, go armed.

Edg. Armed, brother ?]

Edni. Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed.
I am no honest man, if there be any good meaning
towards you. 1 have told you what I have seen and
heard, but faintly; nothing like the image and horror
of it. 'Pray you, away.

Edg. Shall I hear from you anon ?

Edm. I do serve you in this business. —

[Exit EDGAR.

A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty
My practices ride easy ! — I see the business. —
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit ;
All with ine's meet, that I can fashion fit. [Exit.

SCENE III. A Room in the Duke of Albany's

Palace.

Enter GONERIL and Steward.

Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chid
ing of his fool ?

o

Stew. Ay, madam.

Gon. By day and night he wrongs me ; every hour
lie flashes into one gross crime or other,
That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it ;
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
On every trifle. — When he returns from hunting,
I will not speak with him : say, I am sick. —
If you come slack of former services,
You shall do well ; the fault of it I'll answer.

Stew. He's coming, madam ; I hear him.

[Horns within

Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows; I'd have income to question.
If he dislike it, let him to tny sister,

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 27

Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,

[Not to be overruled. Idle old man,1

That still would manage those authorities,

That he hath given away ! — Now, by my life,

Old fools are babes again ; and must be used

With checks, as flatteries, — when they are seen

abused.2]
Remember what I have said.

Stew. Very well, madam.

Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among

you;

What grows of it, no matter ; advise your fellows so.
[I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall,
That I may speak.3] — I'll write straight to my sister,
To hold my very course. — Prepare for dinner.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Hall in the same.

Enter KENT, disguised.

Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow,
That can my speech diffuse,4 my good intent
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I razed 5 my likeness. — Now, banished Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned,
(So may it come !) thy master, whom thou lov'st,
Shall find thee full of labors.

1 This line and the four following1 are not in the folio. Theobald
observes, that they are fine in themselves, and much in character for
Goneril.

2 The meaning of this passage may be, " Old men are babes again,
and must be accustomed to checks as well as flatteries, especially when
the latter are seen to be abused by them."

3 The words in brackets are found in the quartos, but omitted in the
folio.

4 To diffuse here means to disguise, to render it strange, to obscure it.
See Merry Wives of Windsor. We must suppose that Kent advances
looking on his disguise.

5 i. e. effaced.

o-J KING LEAR. [ACT 1.

Horns within. Enter LEAR, Knights, and Attendants.

Liar. Let me not stay a jot for dinner ; go, get it
re:idy. [Exit an Attendant] How now, what art
rhoii ?

Kent. A man, sir.

Lear. What dost thou profess ? What wouldst
tliou with us ?

Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to
serve him truly, that will put me in trust ; to love him
tli.it is honest; to converse1 with him that is wise,
and says little; to fear judgment ; to fight, when I
cannot choose ; and to eat no fish.2

Lear. What art thou ?

Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as
the king.

Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is for
a kin"-, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou ?

Kent. Service.

L'-ar. Who wouldst thou serve ?

Kent. You.

Lc.ar. Dost thou know me, fellow ?

Kent. No, sir ; but you have that in your counte
nance, which I would fain call master.

Lair. What's that?

Kent. Authority.

Lear. What services canst thou do ?

Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a
curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message
bluntly. That which ordinary men are fit for, I am
qualified in ; and the best of me is diligence.

Lear. How old art thou ?

Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for sing
ing ; nor so old, to dote on her for any thing. I have
years on my back forty-eight.

1 To conyerse signifies immediately and properly to keep company, to
have commerce with.

~ It i.s not clear how Kent means to make the eating no JlsJi a recom-
•nendatory quality, unless we suppose that it arose from the odium then cast
upon the papists, who were the most strict observers of periodical fasts.

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 29

Lear. Follow me ; thou shalt serve me ; if I like
thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee
yet. — Dinner, ho, dinner! — Where's my knave? my
fool ? Go you, and call my fool hither.

Enter Steward.

You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter ?

Stew. So please you [Exit.

Lear. What says the fellow there ? Call the clot-
poll hack. — Where's my fool, ho? — I think the world's
asleep. — How now ? where's that mongrel ?

Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

Lear. Why came not the slave back to me, when
I called him ?

Knight. Sir, he answered me in the roundest
manner, he would not.

Lear. He would not !

Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is ;
but, to my judgment, your highness is not entertained
with that ceremonious affection as you were wont ;
there's a great abatement of kindness appears, as well
in the general dependants, as in the duke himself also,
and your daughter.

Lear. Ha ! say'st thou so ?

Knight. \ beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be
mistaken ; for my duty cannot be silent, when I think
your highness is wronged.

Lear'. Thou but remember'st me of mine own
conception. I have perceived a most faint neglect
of late ; which I have rather blamed as mine own
jealous curiosity,1 than as a very pretence2 and pur
pose of unkindness : I will look further into't. — But
where's my fool ? I have not seen him this two days.

Knight. Since my young lady's going into France,
sir, the fool hath much pined away.

1 By jealous curiosity, Lear appears to mean a punctilious jealousy^
resulting from a scrupulous watchfulness of his own dignity. See the
second note on the first scene of this play.

2 A very pretence is an absolute design.

30 KING LEAR. [ACT I.

Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. —
Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with her
Go you, and call hither my fool. —

Re-enter Steward.

O you sir, you sir, come you hither. Who am I, sir ?

"Stew. My lady's father.

Lear. My lady's father ! my lord's knave ; you
whoreson dog ! you slave ! you cur !

Stew. I am none of this, my lord ; I beseech you,
pardon me.

Lear. Do you bandy1 looks with me, you rascal?

[Striking him.

Stew. I'll not be struck, my lord.

Kent. Nor tripped neither ; you base foot-ball player.

[ Tripping up his heels.

Lear. I thank thee, fellow ; thou servest me, and
I'll Jove thee.

Kent. Come, sir, arise, away; I'll teach you differ
ences ; away, away. If you will measure your lubber's
length again, tarry ; but away : go to. Have you
wisdom ? so. [Pushes the Steward out.

Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee;
there's earnest of thy service. [Giving KENT money.

Enter Fool,

Fool. Let me hire him too ; — here's my coxcomb.

[Giving KENT his cap.

Lear. How now, my pretty knave ? how dost thou ?
Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
Kent. Why, fool ?

Fool. Why? For taking one's part that is out of
favor ; nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits,

1 A metaphor from tennis. " Come in and take this bandy with the
racket of patience." — Decker's Satiromastix. " To bandy a ball," Cole
<!<• lines clava pilam torqucre ; " To bandy at tennis," reticulo pellere. " To
bandy blows," is still a common idiom.

SO. IV.] KING LEAR. 31

thou'lt catch cold shortly.1 There, take my coxcomb.
Why, this fellow has banished two of his daughters,
and did the third a blessing against his will ; if thou
follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.2 —
How now, nuncle ? 3 'Would I had two coxcombs and
two daughters !

Lear. Why, my boy ?

Fool. If I gave them all my living,4 I'd keep my
coxcombs myself. There's mine ; beg another of thy
daughters.

Lear. Take heed, sirrah ; the whip.

Fool. Truth's a dog that must to kennel. He must
be whipped out, when lady, the brach,5 may stand by
the fire, and stink.

Lear. A pestilent gall to me !

Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.

Lear. Do.

Fool. Mark it, nuncle : —

Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,6
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest,7
Set less than thou throwest,
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt havre more
Than two tens to a score.

1 i. e. be turned out of doors and exposed to the inclemency of the
weather.

2 The reader may see a representation of this ornament of the fool's
cap, in Mr. Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. " Natural ideots
and fools have, and still do accustome themselves to weare in their
cappes cockes feathers, or a hat with a necke and heade of a cocke on the
top, and a bell thereon." — Minsheu's Dictionary,, 1617.

3 A familiar contraction of mine uncle, as ningle, &c. It seems that
the customary appellation of the old licensed fool to his superiors was
uncle.

4 All my estate or property.

5 It has already been shown that brach was a mannerly name for a
bitch.

6 To owe is to possess.

7 To trow is to believe. The precept is admirable. Set, in the next
line, means stake.

32 KING LEAR. [ACT 1.

Lear. This is nothing, fool.

Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd
lawyer ; you gave me nothing for't. Can you make
no use of nothing, nuncle ?

Lear. Why, no, boy ; nothing can be made out of
nothing.

Fool. 'Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his
land comes to; he will not believe a fool. [To KENT,

Lear. A bitter fool !

Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy,
between a bitter fool and a sweet fool ?

Lear. [No, lad ; teach me.

Fool. That lord, that counselled thee

To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me, —

Or do thou for him stand.
The sweet and bitter fool
Will presently appear ;
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.

Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy ?

Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away ;
that thou wast born with.

.Kent. This is not. altogether fool, my lord.

Fool. No, 'faith, lords and great men will not let
me ; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part
ou't : and ladies, too, they will not let me have all
fool to myself; they'll be snatching.1] — Give me an
r»-«', nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.

Lear. What two crowns shall they be ?

FooL Why, after I have cut the egg i'the middle,
and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg.
When thou clovest thy crown i'the middle, and gavest
away both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy back
over the dirt. Thou had'st little wit in thy bald crown,
when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak like
myself in this, let him be whipped that first finds it so.

1 The passage in Imickots is omitted in the folio, perhaps for political
reasons, as it seems to censure the monopolies, the gross abuses of which
were more legitimate than safe objects of satire.

SC IV.] KING LEAR. 33

Fools had ne'er less grace in a year,1 [Singing

For wise men are grown foppish ;
And know not how their wits to ivear,

Their manners are so apish.

Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs,
sirrah ?

Fool. I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest
thy (laughters thy mother ; for when thou gavest them
the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches,

Then they for sudden joy did iveep, [Singing.

And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,

And go the fools among.

Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach
thy fool to lie ; I would fain learn to lie.

Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped.

Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters
are. They'll have me whipped for speaking true,
thou'lt have me whipped for lying ; and, sometimes, I
am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be
any kind of thing than a fool ; and yet I would not be
thee, nuncle ; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and
left: nothing in the middle. Here comes one o'the
parings.

Enter GONERIL.

Lear. Flow now, daughter! what makes that front
let2 on? Methinks you are too much of late i' the
frown.

Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou had'st

1 « There never was a time when fools were less in favor." In Mother
Bombie, a Comedy, by Lyly, 1594, we find, "I think gentlemen had never
less wit in a year" It is remarkable that the quartos read " less wit"
instead of "less grace," which is the reading of the folio.

~ A frontlet, or forehead-cloth, was worn by ladies of old, to prevent
ivrinkles. Thus in Zepheria, a collection of Sonnets, 4to. 1594: — •

" But now, my sunne, it fits thou take thy set

And vayle thy face \vithfrownes as with a. frontlet"
VOL. VII. 5

34 KING LEAR. [ACT I.

no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O1
witliout a figure. I am better than thou art now ; I
am a fool, thou art nothing. — Yes, forsooth, I will hold
inv tongue! so jour face [To GON.] bids me, though
you say" nothing. Mum, mum,

He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some.
That's a shealed peascod.2 [Pointing to LEAR.

Con. Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool,
But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourly carp and quarrel ; breaking forth
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir,
I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
To have found a safe redress ; but now grow fearful,
By what yourself too late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on 3
By your allowance; which if you should, the fault
Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep;
Which in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence,
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Will call discreet proceeding.

Fool. For you trow, nuncle,
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its young.
So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.4

Lear. Are you our daughter?

Gon. Come, sir,5 I would you would make use of
that good wisdom whereof I know you are fraught;

1 i. o. a cipher.

- Now a move husk that contains nothing.

:? Put it 07?, that is, promote it, push it forward. Allowance, is approbation.

4 " Shakspeare's fools are certainly copied from the life. The originals
whom lie copied were no doubt men of quick parts; lively and sarcastic.
Though they were licensed to say any thing, it was still necessary, to
prevent giving offence, that every thing they said should have a playful
air ; we may suppose, therefore, that they had a custom of taking off the
cdjro of too sharp a speech by covering it hastily with the end of an old
son ir, or any glib nonsense that came into their mind. I know no other
way of accounting for the incoherent words with which Shakspeare
often finishes this fool's speeches." — Sir Joshua Reynolds.

•} Th(3 folio omits these words, and reads the rest of the speech,
perhaps rightly, as vers;1.

SC. IV.l KING LEAR. 35

and put away these dispositions, which of late transform
you from what you rightly are.

Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the
horse ? Whoop, Jug ! I love thee.

Lear. Does any here know me ? — Why, this is not
Lear ; does Lear walk thus ? speak thus ? Where are
his eyes' ? Either his notion weakens, or his discern-
ings are lethargied. — Sleeping or waking ? — Ha ! sure
'tis not so. — Who is it that can tell me who I am ? ]

Fool. Lear's shadow,

Lear. [I would learn that ; for by the marks of
sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, 1 should be false
persuaded I had daughters.

Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.]

Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman ?

Gon. Come, sir;

This admiration is much o'the favor2
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
To understand my purposes aright ;
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires,
Men so disordered, so debauched, and bold,
That this our court, infected with their manners,
Shows like a riotous inn ; epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel,
Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy. Be then desired
By her that else will take the thing she begs,
A little to disquantity your train ;
And the remainder, that shall still depend,3
To be such men as may besort your age,
And know themselves and you.

Lear. Darkness and devils ! —

Saddle my horses ; call my train together. —

1 This passage has* been erroneously printed in all the late editions
"Who is it can tell me who I am?" says Lear. In the folio, the reply,
" Lear's shadow," is rightly given to the fool. It is remarkable that the
continuation of Lear's speech, and the continuation of the fool's comment,
is omitted in the folio copy.

2 i. e. of the complexion.

3 i. e. continue in service.

36 KING LEAR. [ACT I.

Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter.

Gon. You strike my people ; and your disordered

rabble
Make servants of their betters.

Enter ALBANY.

Lear. Woe, that too late repents,1— O sir, are you

come ?
Is it your will ? [To ALB.] Speak, sir.— Prepare my

horses.

Ingratitude ! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster ! 2

Alb. 'P^y? sir, be patient.

Lear. Detested kite ! thou liest. [To GONERIL.
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know ;
And in the most exact regard support
The worships of their name. — O most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show !
Which, like an engine,3 wrenched my frame of nature
From the fixed place ; drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear !
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in,

[Striking his head.
And thy dear judgment out. — Go, go, my people.

Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath moved you.

Lear. It may be so, my lord. — Hear, nature, hear ;
Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful !
Into her womb convey sterility !
Dry up in her the organs of increase ;

1 One of the quarto copies reads, " We that too late repents us." The
others, "We that too late repents."

~ The sea-monster is the hippopotamus, the hieroglyphical symbol of
impiety and ingratitude.

3 By an engine the rack is here intended.

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 37

And from her derogate l body never spring

A babe to honor her ! If she must teem,

Create her child of spleen ; that it may live,

And be a thwart2 disnatured torment to her !

Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ;

With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks ;

Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,3

To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is

To have a thankless child ! — Away ! away ! \_Exit.

Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this ?

Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause ;
But let his disposition have that scope
That dotage gives it.

Re-enter LEAR.

Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a ciap !
Within a fortnight ?

Alb. WThat's the matter, sir ?

Lear. I'll tell thee ; — Life and death ! I am ashamed
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ;

[To GONERIL.

That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them. — Blasts and fogs upon

thee !

The untented 4 woundings of a father's curse
Pierce every sense about thee ! — Old fond eyes,
Be weep this cause again, I'll pluck you out ;
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,

1 Derogate here means degenerate, degraded.

~ Thwart as a noun adjective is not frequent in our language. It is
to be found, however, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578 : —

"Sith fortune thwart doth crosse my joys with earn."

Disnatured is wanting1 natural affection.

3 " Pains and benefits," in this place, signify maternal cares and good
offices.

4 The untented woundings are the rankling or never-healing wounds
inflicted by a parental malediction. Tt-jits are well-known dressings
inserted into wounds as a preparative to healing them.

38 KING LEAR. [ACT 1

To temper clay. — Ha! is it come to this?
Let it be so. — Yet have I left a daughter,
Who. I am sure, is kind and comfortable ;
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She'll flay thy woliish visage. Thou shalt find
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off forever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.1

[Exeunt LEAK, KENT, and Attendants.
Gon. Do you mark that, my lord ?
Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
To the great love I bear you, —

Gon. Tray you, content. — What, Oswald, ho !
You sir, more knave than fool, after your master.

[To the Fool.

Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, and take
the fool with thee.

A fox, when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter ;
So the fool follows after. [Exit.

Gon.~ [This man hath had good counsel ; — a hun
dred knights !

'Tis politic, and safe, to let him keep
At point,3 a hundred knights ! Yes, that on every dream,
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
And hold our lives in mercy.] Oswald, I say ! —
Alb. Well, you may fear too far.
Gon. Safer than trust too far :

Let me still take away the harms I fear,
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart ;
What he hath uttered, I have writ my sister ;
If she sustain him and his hundred knights,

1 Tliis speccli is <r]C;me<l partly from the folios, and partly from the
quartos. The omissions in the one and the other are not of sufficient
importance to trouble the reader with a separate notice of each.

a All within brackets is omitted in the quartos.

3 ,'H point probably means completely armed.

SC. V.J KING LEAR. 39

When I have showed the unfitness, — How now, Os
wald ?

Enter Steward.

What, have you writ that letter to my sister ?

Steiv. Ay, madam.

.Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse ;
Inform her full of my particular fear ;
And thereto add such reasons of your own,
As may compact it more. Get you gone ;
And hasten your return. [Exit Stew.] No, no, my

lord,

This milky gentleness, and course of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more attasked l for want of wisdom,
Than praised for harmful mildness.

Alb. How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell ;
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

Gon. Nay, then,

Alb. Well, well ; the event. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Court before the same.

Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool.

Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these letters ;
acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you
know, than comes from her demand out of the letter.
If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there before
you.2

Kent. 1 will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered
your letter. [Exit.

1 The word task is frequently used by Shakspeare and his contempo
raries in the sense of tax.

2 The word there, in this speech, shows that when the king- says, " Go
you before to Gloster," he means the town of Gloster, which Shakspeare
chose to make the residence oi the duke of Cornwall, to increase the
probability of their setting out late from thence on a visit to the earl of
Gloster. Our old English earls usually resided in the counties whence
they took their titles. Lear, not finding his son-in-law and his wife at
home, follows them to the earl of Gloster's castle.

40 KING LEAR. [ACT I

Fool. If a man's brains were in his heels, were't
not in danger of kibes ?

Lear. Ay, boy.

Fool. Then, 1 pr'ythee, be merry ; thy wit shall not
go slip-shod.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha !

Fool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee
kindly ; ] for though she's as like this as a crab is fike
an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

Lear. Why, what canst thou tell, my boy ?

Fool. She will taste as like this, as a crab does to
a crab. Thou canst tell, why one's nose stands i'the
middle of his lace?

Lear. No.

Fool. Why, to keep his eyes on either side his nose ;
that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.

Lear. I did her wrong.2

Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell ?

Lear. No.

Fool. Nor I neither ; but I can tell why a snail has
a house.

Lear. Why?

Fool. Why, to put his head in ; not to give it away
to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case.

Lear. I will forget my nature. — So kind a father !
— Be my horses ready ?

Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason
why the seven stars are no more than seven, is a pretty
reason.

Lear. Because they are not eight ?

Fool. Yes, indeed ; thou wouldest make a good
fool.

Lear. To take it again perforce ! 3 — Monster in
gratitude !

1 The fool quibbles, using the word in two senses ; as it means
affectionately, and like the rest of'lier kind, or after their nature.

~ He is musing on Cordelia.

3 The subject of Lear's meditation is the resumption of that moiety
of the kingdom he had bestowed on Goneril. ' This was what Albany
apprehended, when he replied t) the upbraidings of his wife: — "Well,

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 41

Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee
beaten for being old before thy time.

Lear. How's that ?

Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old, before thou
hadst been wise.

Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet Heaven!
Keep me in temper ; I would not be mad ! —

Enter Gentleman.

How now ! are the horses ready ?
Gent. Ready, my lord.
Lear. Come, boy.

Fool. She that is maid now, and laughs at my de
parture,

Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Court within the Castle of the Earl
of Gloster.

Enter EDMUND and CUR AN, meeting.

Edm. Save thee, Curan.

Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father,
and given him notice, that the duke of Cornwall, and
Regan his duchess, will be here with him to-night.

Edm. How comes that ?

well : the event." What Lear himself projected when he left Goneril to
go to Regan : —

« Thou shalt find

That Fll resume the shape, which thou dost think
I have cast off forever ; thou shalt, I warrant thee."

And what Curan afterwards refers to, when he asks Edmund : — " Have
you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt the dukes of Cornwall and
Albany ? "

VOL. VII. 6

42 KING LEAR. [ACT II.

Cur. Nay, I know not. You have heard of the
news abroad ; I mean the whispered ones, for they
are yet but ear-kissing arguments?1

Edm. Not I ; 'pray you, what are they ?

Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward,2
'twixt the dukes of Cornwall and Albany ?

Edm. Not a word.

Cur. You may then, in tin e. Fare you well, sir.

| Exit.

Edm. The duke be here to-night? The Iv-n^

Best !

This weaves itself perforce intc rny business !
My father hath set guard to take my brother ;
And I have one thing, of a queasy3 question,
Which I must act. — Briefness, and fortune, <w"k' -
Brother, a word; descend. — Brother, I sr.

Enter EDGAR.

My father watches. — O sir, fly this place ;
Intelligence is given where you are hid ;
You have now the good advantage of the night —
Have you not spoken 'gainst the duke of Cornwjv1
He's coming hither ; now, i'the night, i' the haste.
And Regan with him. Have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the duke of Albany ? 4
Advise 5 yourself.

Eclg. I am sure on't, not a word.

Edm. I hear my father coming. — Pardon me ; —
In cunning, I must draw my sword upon you.—
Draw: seem to defend yourself: now quit you well
Yield ; — come before my father ; — light, ho, here !
Fly, brother: — Torches! torches! — So fore well.

[Exit EDGAR.

1 Ear-kissing arguments means that they are yet in reality only whis
pered ones.

This and the following speech are omitted in the quarto B.
' Queasy appears to mean here delicate, unsettled.

Have you said nothing upon the party formed by him against the
duke of Albany?

' i. c. consider, recollect yourself.

SO. I.] KING LEAR. 43

Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion

[ Wounds his arm.

Of my more fierce endeavor ; I have seen drunkards
Do more than this in sport. — Father ! father !
Stop, stop ! No help ?

Enter GLOSTER, and Servants, with torches.

Glo. Now, Edmund, where's the villain ?

Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand his auspicious mistress.

Glo. But where is he ?

Edm. Look, sir, I bleed.

Glo. Where is the villain, Edmund ?

Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means he
could

Glo. Pursue him, ho ! — Go after. — [Exit Serv.] By
no means, — what ?

Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship ;
But that I told him, the revenging gods
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
Spoke, with howr manifold and strong a bond
The child was bound to the father ; — sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion,
With his prepared sword, he charges home
My unprovided body, lanced mine arm :
But when he saw my best alarumed spirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to the encounter,
Or whether gasted * by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.

Glo. Let him fly far.

Not in this land shall he remain uncaught ;
And found — Despatch.2 — The noble duke, my master,

1 That is, aghasted, frighted.

2 « And found — Despatch. — The noble duke," &c. — The sense is in
terrupted. He shall be caught — and found, he shall be punished. De
spatch.

44 KING LEAR. [ACT II.

My worthy arch1 and patron, comes to-night;
By his authority I will proclaim it,
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake ;
He that conceals him, death.

Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to do it, with curst speech, 2
I threatened to discover him. He replied,
Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think,
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal*
Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee
Make thy words faithed ? No ; what I should deny,
(As this I would : ay, though thou didst produce
Mij very character,*} Pd turn it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice ;
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spurs 5
To make thee seek it.

Glo. Strong and fastened villain ;

Would he deny his letter? — I never got him.

[Trumpets within.
Hark, the duke's trumpets ! I know not why he

comes. —

x\ll ports I'll bar ; the villain shall not 'scape ;
The duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him ; and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means
To make thee capable.6

1 i. e. chief; now only used in composition.

2 "And found him pight to do it, with curst speech." Pight is pitched,
fixed, settled ; curst is vehemently angry, bitter.

3 i. e. would any opinion that men have reposed in thy trust, virtue,
&c. The old quarto reads, " could the reposure."

4 i. e. my hand- writing1, my signature.

5 The folio reads, " potential spirits" And in the next line but one,
" O strange and fastened villain." — Strong is determined, resolute. Our
ancestors often used it in an ill sense ; as strong thief, strong whore, &c.

0 i. e. capable of succeeding to my land, notwithstanding "the legal bar
of thy illegitimacy.

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 45

Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Attendants.

Corn. How now, my noble friend ? since I came

hither
(Which I can call but now) I have heard strange news.

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short,
Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord ?

Glo. O madam, my old heart is cracked, is cracked !

Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life ?
He whom my father named ? your Edgar ?

Glo. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid !

Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knights
That tend upon my father ?

Glo. I know not, madam ;

It is too bad, too bad. —

Edm. Yes, madam, he was.

Reg. No marvel, then, though he were ill-affected ;
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have the waste and spoil of his revenues.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well informed of them ; and with such cautions,
That, if they come to sojourn at my house,
I'll not be there.

Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. —

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
A child-like office.

Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir.

Glo. He did bewray his practice,1 and received
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

Corn. Is he pursued ?

Glo. Ay, my good lord, he is.

Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more
Be feared of doing harm : make your own purpose.
How in my strength you please. — For you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours ;
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need ;
You we first seize on.

1 " Bewray his practice" That is, he did betray or reveal his treacherous
devices. The quartos read betray.

46 KING LEAR. [ACT II

Edm. I shall serve you, sir,

Truly, however else.

Glo. For him I thank your grace.

Corn. You know not why we came to visit you, —

Reg. Thus out of season ; threading dark-eyed night.
Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poize,1
Wherein we must have use of your advice : —
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of differences, which I best thought it fit
To answer from our home ; 2 the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom ; and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business,
Which craves the instant use.

Glo. I serve you, madam ;

Your graces are right welcome. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Before Gloster's Castle.

Enter KENT and Steward, severally.

Stew. Good dawning3 to thee, friend. Art of the
house ?

Kent. Ay.

St'ew. Where may we set our horses ?

Kent. Pthe mire.

Stew. 'Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me.

Kent. I love thee not.

Stew. Why, then I care not for thee.

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold,4 I would
make thee care for me.

Stew. Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee
not.

Kent. Fellow, I know thee.

1 i. e. of some weight, or moment. The folio and quarto B. read prize.
That is, not at home, but at some other place.

3 The quartos read " good even." It is clear, from various passages in
mis scene, that the morning is just beginning1 to dawn.

4 i. e. Lipsbury pound. "Lipsbury pinfold" may, perhaps, like LoVs
pound) be a coined name ; but with what allusion does not appear.

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 47

Stew. What dost thou know me for ?

Kent. A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats ;
a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-
pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave ; a lily-livered,
action-taking knave ; a whoreson, glass-gazing, super-
serviceable, finical rogue ; one-trunk-inheriting slave ;
one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good-service,
and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar,
coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel
bitch ; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining,
if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.1

Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus
to rail on one that is neither known of thee, nor knows
thee!

Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny
thou knowest me ! Is it two days ago, since I tripped
up thy heels, and beat thee, before the king ? Draw,
you rogue ; for, though it be night, the moon shines ;
I'll make a sop o' the moonshine 2 of you. Draw, you
whoreson cullionly barber-monger,3 draw.

[Drawing his sword.

Stew. Away ; I have nothing to do with thee.

Kent. Draw, you rascal ! you come with letters
against the king ; and take Vanity 4 the puppet's part,
against the royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue,
or I'll so carbonado your shanks. — Draw, you rascal ;
come your ways.

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help!

Kent. Strike, you slave ; stand, rogue, stand ; you
neat slave,5 strike. [Beating him.

Stew. Help, ho ! murder ! murder !

1 i. e. thy titles.

9 Probably alluding to some dish so called.

3 Barber-monger may mean dealer with the lower tradesmen.

4 Alluding to the moralities or allegorical shows, in which Fanity,
Iniquity, and other vices, were personified.

5 You finical rascal, you assemblage of foppery and poverty.

48 KING LEAR. [ACT 11.

'Enter EDMUND, CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and

Servants.

Edm. How now ? what's the matter ? Part.

Kent. With you goodman boy, if you please ; come,
I'll flesh you ; come on, young master.

Glo. Weapons ! arms ! What's the matter here ?

Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives ;
He dies, that strikes again. What is the matter ?

Reg. The messengers from our sister and the king.

Corn. What is your difference ? speak.

Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord.

Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred your valor.
You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in 1 thee ; a tailor
made thee.

Corn. Thou art a strange fellow ; a tailor make a
man ?

Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir ; a stone-cutter, or a painter,
could not have made him so ill, though they had been
but two hours at the trade.

Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ?

Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have

spared,
At suit of his gray beard,

Kent. Thou whoreson zed ! 2 them unnecessary let
ter ! — My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread
this unbolted 3 villain into mortar, and daub the wall
of a jakes with him. — Spare my gray beard, you
wagtail ?

Corn. Peace, sirrah !
You beastly knave, know you no reverence ?

Kent. Yes, sir ; but anger has a privilege.

Corn. Why art thou angry ?

1 To disclaim in, for to disclaim simply, was the phraseology of the
Poet's age. See Gilford's Ben Jonson, vol. iii. p. 264.

•- Zed is here used as a term of contempt, because it is the last letter
in the English alphabet Baret omits it in his Alvearie, affirming it to
be rather a syllable than a letter. And Mulcaster says, " Z is much
harder amongst us, and seldom seen. S is become its lieutenant-general."

3 Coarse villain. Unboiled mortar is mortar made of unsifted lime ;
and therefore to break the lumps, it is necessary to tread it by men in
wooden slices.

SC. II.]

KING LEAR. 49

Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a

sword,

Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain
Which are too intrinse ] t' unloose ; smooth every passion
That in the natures of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods ;
Renege,2 affirm, and turn their halcyon3 beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following. —
A plague upon your epileptic visage !
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool ?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum-plain,
I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot.4

Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow ?

Glo. How fell you out?

Say that.

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
Than I and such a knave.

Corn. Why dost thou call him knave ? What's his
offence ?

Kent. His countenance likes me not.5

Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or
hers.

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain ;
I have seen better faces in my time,
Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.

Corn. This is some fellow,

Who, having been praised for bluntness, cloth affect

1 The quartos read, to intrench ; the folio, t' intrince. Perhaps intrinsc,
for so it should be written, was put by Shakspeare for intrinsicate, which
he has used in Antony and Cleopatra. The word too in the text is sub
stituted for to by Mr. Singer.

3 To renege is to deny.

3 The bird called the kingfisher, which, when dried and hung up by a
thread, is supposed to turn his bill to the point from whence the wind
blows.

4 In Somersetshire, near Camelot, are many large moors, where are
bred great quantities of geese.

5 i. e. pleases me not.

VOL. VII. 7

50 KING LEAR. [ACT 11.

A saucy roughness; and constrains the garb,
Quite iron) his nature.1 He cannot flatter, he ! —
An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth.
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
Harbor more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Than twenty silly 2 ducking observants,
That stretch their duties nicely.

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,
Under the allowance of your grand aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering3 Phoebus' front, —

Corn. What mean'st by this ?

Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discom
mend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer. He
that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain knave ;
which, for my part, I will not be, though I should win
your displeasure to entreat me to it.4

Corn. What was the offence you gave him ?

Stew. I never gave him any.

It pleased the king, his master, very late,
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction ;
When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripped me behind ; being down, insulted, railed,
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthied him, got praises of the king
For him attempting who was self-subdued ;
And, in the fleshment5 of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here a^ain.

1 " Forces his outside, or his appearance, to something totally different
from his natural disposition."

2 Silly, or rather sdy, is simple or rustic. Nicety here is with scrupu
lous nicety, punctilious observance.

^ This expressive word is now only applied to the motion and scintil
lation of flame. Dr. Johnson says, that it means to flutter, which is cer
tainly one of its oldest meanings, it being used in that sense by Chaucer.

4 "Though I should win you, displeased as you now are, to like me so
well as to entreat me to be a knave."

5 A young soldier is said to flesh his sword the first time he draws
blood with it. Fleshment, therefore, is here metaphorically applied to the
first act of service, which Kent, in his new capacity, had performed for his
master.

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 51

Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards,

But Ajax is their fool.1

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho !

You stubborn, ancient knave, you reverend braggart,
We'll teach you —

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn ;

Call not your stocks for me. I serve the king ;
On whose employment I was sent to you.
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks ;

As I've life and honor, there shall he sit till noon.

Reg. Till noon ! till night, my lord ; and all night
too.

Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so.

Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will.

[Stocks brought out.

Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same color
Our sister speaks of. — Come, bring away the stocks.

Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so.
[His fault is much, and the good king his master
Will check him for't: your purposed low correction
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches
For pilferings and most common trespasses,
Are punished with ;] 2 the king his master needs must

take it ill,

That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrained.

Corn. I'll answer that,

Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abused, assaulted.

[KENT is put in the stocks.
Come, my good lord ; away.

[Exeunt REGAN and CORNWALL.

Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend ; 'tis the duke's
pleasure,

1 i. e. Ajax is a fool to them.

2 The sentence in brackets is not in the first folio.

LEAR. [ACT II.

Whoso disposition, all the world well knows,

Will not be rubbed, nor stopped;1 I'll entreat for thee.

Kent. Tray, do not, sir. I have watched, and

travelled hard ;

Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels ;
Give you good morrow !

Glo. The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill
taken. [Exit.

Kent. Good king, that must approve the common

saw

! 2

Thou out of Heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun !

Approach, thou beacon to this under-globe,
That by thy comfortable beams 1 may
Peruse this letter ! — Nothing almost sees miracles,
But misery. — I know 'tis from Cordelia;
Who hath most fortunately been informed
Of my obscured course ; and shall find time
From this enormous state, — seeking, — to give
Losses their remedies.3 — All weary and o'er-watched,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.

Fortune, good night ; smile once more ; turn thy wheel

[He sleeps.

1 A metaphor from bowling-.

2 The saw, or proverb alluded to, is in Hey wood's Dialogues on Proverbs,
b. ii. c. v. : —

" In your running- from him to me, ye runne
Out of God's biessing into the ivarme sunne."

i. e. from good to worse. Kent was thinking of the king being likely to
receive a worse reception from Regan than that which he had already
received from Goneril.

y Kent addresses the sun, for whose rising he is impatient, that he
may read Cordelia's letter. " Nothing (says he) almost sees miracles,
but misery : I know this letter which I hold in my hand is from Cordelia;
who hath most fortunately been informed of my disgrace and wandering
in disguise ; and who, seeking it, shall find time (i. e. opportunity), out
of this enormous (i. e. disordered, unnatural) state of tilings, to give
losses their remedies ; to restore her father to his kingdom, herself to his
ove, and me to his favor."

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 53

SCENE III. A Part of the Heath.

Enter EDGAR.

Edg. I heard myself proclaimed ;
And, by the happy hollow of a tree,
Escaped the hunt. No port is free ; no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,
Does not attend my taking. While I may 'scape,
I will preserve myself; and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape,
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth ;
Blanket my loins ; elf all my hair in knots ; l
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds, and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars,2 who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numbed and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks,3 nails, sprigs of rosemary ;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting4 villages, sheep-cotes and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans,5 sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity. — Poor Turlygood ! G Poor Tom !
That's something yet; Edgar I nothing am. [Exit.

1 Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of elves and fairies
in the night.

a In the Bell-Man of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640, is an ac
count of one of these characters, under the title of .Abraham Man :

" He sweares he hath been in Bedlam, and will talke frantickely of pur
pose: you see pinnes stuck in sundry places of his naked flesh, especially
in his armes, which paine he gladly puts himselfe to, only to make you
believe he is out of his wits. He calls himselfe by the name of Poore
Tom, and coming near any body, cries out Poor Tom is a-cold."

3 i. e. skewers : the euonynms, or spindle-tree, of which the best skewers
are made, is called prick-wood.

4 Paltry. 5 Curses.

G Turlygood, an English corruption of turluru (Ital.), or turdureau
(Fr.); both, among other things, signifying a fool or madman.- It would,
perhaps, be difficult to decide with certainty whether those words are
corruptions of turlupino and turlupin ; but at least it seems probable.
The Turlupins were a fanatical sect, which overran the continent in the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, calling themselves Beghards or
Beghins. Their manners and appearance exhibited the strongest indica-

54 KING LEAR. [ACT II.

SCENE IV. Before Gloster's Castle.1

Enter LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman.

Lear. 'Tis strange, that they should so depart from

home,
And not send back my messenger.

Gent. As I learned,

The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.

Kent. Hail to thee, noble master !

Lear. How !
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime ?

Kent. No, my lord.

Fool. Ha, ha ; look ! he wears cruel 2 garters !
Horses are tied by the head ; dogs and bears by the
neck ; monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs ;
when a man is over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden
nether-stocks.3

Lear. What's he, that hath so much thy place mistook ,
To set thee here ?

Kent. It is both he and she.

Your son and daughter.

Lear. No!

Kent. Yes.

Lear. No, I say.

Kent. I say, yea.

Lear. No, no ; they would not.

Kent. Yes, they have.

Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no.

Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay.

Lear. They durst not do't ;
They could not, would not do't ; 'tis worse than murder,

tions of lunacy and distraction ; and their popular name, Turlupins, was
probably derived from the wolfish holdings they made in their fits cf
religious raving. Cotgrave interprets " Mon Turdureau, My Pillicock,
my pretty knave."

1 See note 2, Act i. Sc. 5. p. 39, ante.

2 A quibble on crewel, i. e. ivorsttd.
a The old word for stockings.

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 55

To do, upon respect, such violent outrage'.1
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Coming from us.

Kent. My lord, when at their home

I did commend your highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that showed
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stewed in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress, salutations ;
Delivered letters, spite of intermission,2
Which presently they read ; on whose contents,
They summoned up their meiny,3 straight took horse ;
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer ; gave me cold looks ;
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceived, had poisoned mine,
(Being the very fellow that of late
Displayed so saucily against your highness,)
Having more man than wit about me, drew ; 4
He raised the house with loud and coward cries ;
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly
that way.5

Fathers, that wear rags,

Do make their children blind ;

But fathers, that bear bags,
Shall see their children kind.

Fortune, that arrant whore,

Ne'er turns the key to the poor. —

1 " To do, upon respect, such violent outrage," means " to do such vio
lent outrage, deliberately, or upon consideration" Respect is frequent
ly used for consideration by Shakspeare.

2 i. e. "spite of leaving»me unanswered for a time."

3 Meiny, signifying & family household, or retinue of servants ,is from the
French meinie, anciently written mesnie.

4 The personal pronoun, which is found in the preceding line, is un
derstood before the word having, or before drew. The same license is
taken by Shakspeare in other places.

5 " If this be their behavior, the king's troubles are not yet at an end."
This speech is omitted in the quartos.

56 KING LEAR. [ACT 11.

But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolors1 for
thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year.

Lear. O, how this mother2 swells up toward my heart !
Hysterica passio ! down, thou climbing sorrow,
Thy element's below ! — Where is this daughter ?

Kent. With the earl, sir, here within.

Lear. Follow me not ;

Stay here. [Exit.

Gent. Made you no more offence than what you
speak of?

Kent. None.
How chance the king comes with so small a train ?

Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that
question, thou hadst well deserved it.

Kent. Why, fool?

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant,3 to teach
thee there's no laboring in the winter. All that follow

O

their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men ; and
there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him
that's stinking. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel
runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following
it ; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw
thee after. When a wise man gives thee better coun
sel, give me mine again ; I would have none but knaves
follow it, since a fool gives it.

That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain,

And follows but for form,
Will pack, when it begins to rain,

And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry, the fool will stay.

And let the wise man fly :
The knave turns fool, that runs away ;
The fool no knave, perdy.

1 A quibble between dolors and dollars.

9 Lear affects to pass off the swelling of hi^ heart, ready to burst with
grief and indignation, for the disease called the mother, or hystenca passio,
which, in the Poet's time, was not thought peculiar to women only.

3 If, says the fool, you had been schooled by the ant, you would have
known that the king's train, like that sagacious insect, prefer the summer
of prosperity to the colder season of adversity, from which no profit can
be derived ; and desert him who lias been left " open and bare for every
storm that blows."

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 57

Kent. Where learned you this, fool ?
Fool. Not i'the stocks, fool.

Re-enter LEAR, with GLOSTER.

Lear. Deny to speak with me ? They are sick ?

they are weary ?

They have travelled hard to-night ? Mere fetches :
The images of revolt and flying off!
Fetch me a better answer.

Glo. My dear lord,

You know the fiery quality of the duke ;
How unremovable and fixed he is
In his own course.

Lear. Vengeance ! plague ! death ! confusion ! —
Fiery ? what quality ? Why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife.

Glo. Well, my good lord, I have informed them so.

Lear. Informed them ! Dost thou understand me,
man ?

Glo. Ay, my good lord.

Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall ; the

dear father
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service.

Are they informed of this ? My breath and blood ! —

Fiery ? the fiery duke ? — Tell the hot duke, that —
No, but not yet ; — may be, he is not well.
Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves,
When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear ;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indisposed and sickly fit
For the sound man. Death on my state ! wherefore

[Looking on KENT.

Should he sit here ? This act persuades me,
That this remotion of the duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them,
Now, presently ; bid them come forth and hear me,

VOL. VII. 8

58 KING LEAR. [ACT II.

Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,
Till it cry— -Sleep to death.1

Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you. [Exit.

Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart ! — but, down.

Fool. Cry to it, nunele, as the cockney 2 did to the
eels, when she put them i'the paste alive ; she rapped
'em o'the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, Down,
wantons, down. 'Tvvas her brother, that, in pure kind
ness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOSTER, and Servants.

Lear. Good morrow to you both.

Corn. Hail to your grace !

[KENT is set at liberty.

Reg. I am glad to see your highness.

Lear. Regan, I think you are ; I know what reason
I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adultress. — O, are you free ?

[To KENT.

Some other time for that. — Beloved Regan,.
Thy sister's naught. O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here. —

[Points to his heart.

I can scarce speak to thee ; thou'lt not believe,
Of how depraved a quality O Regan !

Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience ; I have hope,
You less know how to value her desert,
Than she to scant her duty.3

Lear. Say. how is that ?

Reg. 1 cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance,
She have restrained the riots of your followers,

1 The meaning of this passage seems to be, " I'll beat the drum till it
cries out — Ld them invoke, no more ; Id their present sleep be their last."
Mason would read, " death to sleep," instead of " sleep to death."

1 A cockney and a ninny-hammer, or simpleton, were convertible terms.

3 This is somewhat inaccurately expressed. Shakspearo having, as
on some other occasions, perplexed himself by the word less.

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 59

'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My curses on her !

Reg. O sir, you are old ;

Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine. You should be ruled, and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return ;
Say, you have wronged her, sir.1

Lear. Ask her forgiveness ?

Do you but mark how this becomes the house.2
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old ;
Age is unnecessary ; 3 on my knees I beg, [Kneeling.
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.

Reg. Good sir, no more ; these are unsightly tricks.
Return you to my sister.

Lear. Never, Regan.

She hath abated me of half my train ;
Looked black upoft me ; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. —
All the stored vengeances of Heaven fall
On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness !

Corn. Fie, fie, fie !

Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding

flames

Into her scornful eyes ! Infect her beauty,
You fen-sucked fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
To fall 4 and blast her pride !

Reg. O the blest gods !

So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.

Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse ;
Thy tender-hefted 5 nature shall not give

1 « Say," &c. This line and the following speech is omitted in the
quartos.

2 i. e. the order of families, duties of relation.

3 Unnecessary is here used in the sense of necessitous.

4 Fall seems here to be used as an active verb, signifying to humble
or pull down.

5 Tender-hefted may mean moved, or heaving with tenderness. The

60 KING LEAR. [ACT II,

Thee o'er to harshness ; her eyes are fierce, but thine

Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee

To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,

To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,1

And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt

Against my coming in. Thou better know'st

The offices of nature, bond of childhood,

Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude ;

Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,

Wherein I thee endowed.

Reg. Good sir, to the purpose.

[Trumpets within.

Lear. Who put my man i'thc stocks ?

Corn. What trumpet's that ?

Enter Steward.

Reg. I know't, my sister's ; this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here. — Is your lady come ?

Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrowed pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he 'follows. —
Out, varlet, from my sight !

Corn. What means your grace ?

Lear. Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have

good hope

Thou didst not know oft. — Who comes here ?
Heavens,

Enter GONERIL.

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway

Allow2 obedience, if yourselves are old,

Make it your cause ; send down, and take my part ! —

Ait not ashamed to look upon this beard ? —

JTo GONERIL.
?

quartos road tender-hested, which may be right, and signify giving1 tender
he.it s or commands.

- A size is a portion or allotment of food. The word and its origin
arc explained in Minsheu's Guide to Tongues, 1(51 7. The term sizer is
still used at Cambridge for one of the lowest rank of students, living on
a. stated allowance.

2 To allow is to approve, in old phraseology.

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 61

Gon. Why not by the hand, sir ? How have I of
fended ?

All's not offence, that indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms so.

Lear. O sides, you are too tough !

Will you yet hold ? — How came my man i'the stocks ?

Corn. I set him there, sir ; but his own disorders
Deserved much less advancement.1

Lear. 'You ! did you ?

Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.2
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me ;
I am now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismissed ?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage3 against the enmity o'the air;
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, —
Necessity's sharp pinch ! — Return with her ?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and, squirelike, pension beg
To keep base life afoot. — Return with her ?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter4
To this detested groom. [Looking on the Steward

Gon. At your choice, sir.

Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad ;
I will riot trouble thee, my child ; farewell.
We'll no more meet, no more see one another. —
But yet thou art my .flesh, my blood, my daughter ;
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine ; thou art a boil,

1 By less advancement, Cornwall means that Kent's disorders had
entitled him to a post of even less honor than the stocks.
9 Since you are weak, be content to think yourself weak.

3 See p. 14, note 6, ante.

4 Sumpter is generally united with horse or mule, to signify one that
carried provisions or other necessaries; from sumptus(La.t.}. In the
present instance horse seems to be understood.

62 KING LEAR. [ACT II.

A plague-sore, an embossed1 carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee ;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it.
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
Mend, when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure.
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
J, and my hundred knights.

Reg. Not altogether so, sir ;

1 looked not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and so —
But she knows what she does.

Lear. Is this well spoken, now?

Reg. I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers ?
Is it not well ? What should you need of more ?
Yea, or so many ? sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number ? How, in one house,
Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity ? 'Tis hard ; almost impossible.

Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attend
ance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine ?

Reg. Why not, my lord ? If then they chanced to

slack you,

We could control them. If you will come to me,
(For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you
To bring but live-and-twenty ; to no more
Will I give place or notice.

Lear. I gave you all

Reg. And in good time you gave it,

Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be followed
With such a number. What, must I come to you
With five-and-twenty, Regan ? said you so ?

Reg. And speak it again, my lord ; no more with
me.

1 Embossed here means swelling, protuberant.

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 63

Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well favored,
When others are more wicked ; not being the worst,
Stands in some rank of praise : l — I'll go with thee ;

[To GONERIL.

Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,
And thou art twice her love.

Gon. Hear me, my lord ;

What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you ?

Reg. What need one ?

Lear. O, reason not the need ; our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous ;
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap 2 as beast's. Thou art a lady ;
If onlv to .go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. — But, for true need, —
You Heavens give me that patience, patience I need !
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age ; wretched in both !
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger !
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks ! — No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall — I will do such things, —
What they are, yet I know riot ; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep ;
No, I'll not weep. —

I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,3
Or ere I'll weep. — O fool, I shall go mad !

[Exeunt LEAR, GLOSTER, KENT, and Fool.

1 i. e. to be not the worst deserves some praise.

2 Jls cheap here means as little worth.

3 Flaws anciently signified fragments, as well as mere cracks. Among
the Saxons it certainly had that meaning. The word, as Bailey observes,
was " especially applied to the breaking off shivers or thin pieces from
precious stones."

64 KING LEAR. [ACT II.

Corn. Let us withdraw ; 'twill be a storm.

[Storm heard at a distance.

Reg. This house

Is little ; the- old man and his people cannot
Be well bestowed.

Gon. 'Tis. his own blame hath put

Himself from rest, and must needs taste his folly.

Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
But not one follower.

Gon. So am I purposed.

Where is rny lord of Gloster ?

Re-enter GLOSTER.

Corn. Followed the old man forth ; — he is returned.

Glo. The king is in high rage.

Corn. Whither is he going ?

Glo. He calls to horse ; but will I know not
whither.

Com. 'Tis best to give him way ; he leads himself.

Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.

Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak

winds

Do sorely ruffle ; * for many miles about
There's scarce a bush.

Reg. O sir, to wilful men,

The injuries that they themselves procure,
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors ;
He is attended with a desperate train ;
And what they may incense 2 him to, being apt
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.

Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord ; 'tis a wild

night.
My Regan counsels well ; come out o' the storm.

[Exeunt.

1 Thus the folio. The quartos read, " Do sorely russel" i. e. rustle.
But, ruffle is most probably the true reading1.
~ To incense is here, as in other places, to instigate.

SC. I.] KING LEAK. C&

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Heath. A storm is heard, with thun
der and lightning.

Enter KENT, and a Gentleman, meeting.

Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather ?

Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

Kent. I know you ; where's the king ?

Gent. Contending with the fretful element ;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,1
That things might change, or cease;2 tears his white

hair ;

Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
Strives in his little world of man to outscorn 3
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear4 would couch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their fur dry, unbormeted he runs,
And bids what will take all.5

Kent. But who is with him ?

Gent. None but the fool ; who labors to outjest
His heart-struck injuries.

Kent. Sir, I do know you ;

And dare, upon the warrant of my art,6
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,

1 The main seems to signify hero the main land, the continent.

2 The first folio ends this speech at " change or cease" and begin*
again at Kent's speech, " But who is with him ? "

3 Steevens thinks that we should read u out-storm"

4 That is, a bear whose dugs are drawn dry by its young.

5 So in Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus says : —

« I'll strike, and cry, Take all."

6 i. e. on the strength of that art or skill which teaches us " to find tht
mind's construction in the face" The folio reads: —

" upon the warrant of my note ; "

which Dr. Johnson explains, " my observation of your character."
VOL. VII. 9

66 KING LEAR. [ACT III.

Although as yet the face of it be covered

With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ;

Who have (as who have not, that their great stars1

Throned and set high ?) servants, who seem no less ;

Which are to France the spies and speculations

Intelligent of our state ; what hath been seen,

Either in snuffs and packings 2 of the dukes ;

Or the hard rein which both of them have borne

Against the old kind king ; or something deeper,

Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings : — 3

[But, true it is, from France there comes a power

Into this scattered kingdom; who already

Wise in our negligence, have secret feet

In some of our best ports, and are at point

To show their opeii banner. — Now to you.

If on my credit you dare build so far

To make your speed to Dover, you shall find

Some that will thank you, makingjust report

Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow

The king hath cause to plain.

I am a gentleman of blood and breeding ;

And from some knowledge and assurance, offer

This office to you.]

Gent. I will talk further with you.

Kent. No, do not.

For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take
What it contains. If yon shall see Cordelia,
(As fear not but you shall,) show her this ring,
And she will tell you who your fellow 4 is,

1 This and the seven following- lines are* not in the quartos. The lines in
crotchets lower down, from " But, true it is," &c. to the end of the speech,
are not in the folio. So that if the speech be read with omission of the
former, it will stand according1 to the first edition ; and if the former lines
are read, and the latter omitted, it will then stand according to the second.
The second edition is generally best, and was probably nearest to Shak-
speare's last copy ; but in this speech the first is preferable ; for in the
folio the messenger is sent, he knows not why, he knows not whither.

2 Snuffs are dislikes, and parkings underhand contrivances.

3 A furnish anciently signified a sample. " To lend the world a fur
nish of wit, she lays her own out to pawn." — Green's Groatsiuorth of Wit.

4 Companion.

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 67

That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm .
I will go seek the king.

Gent. Give me your hand ; have you no more to
say?

Kent. Few words, but to effect, more than all yet ;
That when we have found the king, (in which your pain
That way ; I'll this ;) he that first lights on him,
Holla the other.1 [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II. Another Part of the Heath. Storm
continues.

Enter LEAR and Fool.

Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage!

blow !

You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing 2 fires,
Vaunt-couriers3 to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head ! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world !
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man !

Fool. O nuncle, court holy -water4 in a dry house is
better than this rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle,
in, and ask thy daughter's blessing ! Here's a night
pities neither wise men nor fools.

Lear. Rumble thy bellyful ! Spit fire! spout rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness ;

1 The quartos read :

" That when we have found the King,
Fie this way, you that ; he that first lights
On him, hollow the other."

2 Thought-executing, " doing- execution with celerity equal to thought."

3 Jlvant-couriers (Fr.). The phrase occurs in other writers of Shak-
epeare's time. It originally meant the foremost scouts of an army.

4 Court holy-water is fair words and flattering speeches. The French
have their Eau benite de la cour in the same sense.

68 KING LEAR. [ACT III

I never gave you kingdom, called you children ;
You owe me no subscription ; 1 why, then let fall
Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man. —
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters joined
Your high-engendered battles, 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O ! O ! tis foul !

Fool. He that has a house to put his head in, has a
good head-piece.

The cod-piece that will house,

Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse ; —

So beggars marry many.
The man that makes his toe

What he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe,

And turn his sleep to wake.

— for there was never yet fair woman, but she made
mouths in a glass.

Enter KENT.

Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience,
I will say nothing.

Kent. Who's "there ?

Fool. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece ; 2 that's
a wise man, and a fool.

Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love

night,

Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful skies
Gallow3 the very wanderers of the dark,
And make them keep their caves. Since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never

1 i. c. submission, obedience.

2 Meaning the kino- and himself. The king's grace was the usual
expression in Shakspeare's time.

3 To gallon) i.s to frighten, to si

scare.

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 69

Remember to have heard ; man's nature cannot carry
The affliction, nor the fear.

Lear. Let the great gods,

That keep this dreadful pother 1 o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipped of justice ! Hide thee, thou bloody hand ;
Thou perjured, and thou simular 2 man of virtue,
That art incestuous ! Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming,
Hast practised on man's life ! — Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents,3 and cry
These dreadful summoners grace.4 I am a man
More sinned against than sinning.

O O

Kent. Alack, bare-headed!

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel ;
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest.
Repose you there ; while 1 to this hard house
(More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis raised ;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Denied me to come in) return, and force
Their scanted courtesy.

Lear. My wits begin to turn. —

Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy ? Art cold ?
I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow ?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel ;
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee.5

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit, —

With a heigh, ho, the wind and the rain, —
Must make content with his fortunes fit ;
For the rain it rainetli every day.6

1 Thus the folio and one of the quartos ; the other quarto reads
thundering.

- i.e. counterfeit.

3 Continent for that which contains or incloses.

4 Summoners are officers that summon offenders before a proper tn-
mnal.

5 The quartos read, « That sorrows yet for thee."

6 Part of the Clown's song at the end of Twelfth Night

70 KING LEAR. [ACT Ui

Lear. True, my good boy. — Come, bring us to this
hovel. \Exeunt LEAR and KENT.

Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtesan.1
I'll speak a prophecy ere I go :
When priests are more in word than matter ;
When brewers mar their malt with water ;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors ;
No heretics burned, but wenches' suitors ;
When every case in law is right ;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues :

o f

Nor cut purses come not to throngs ;

When usurers tell their gold i' the field:

And bawds and whores do churches build ;—

Then shall the realm of Albion

Come to great confusion.9

Then conies the time, who lives to see't,

That going shall be used with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before his
time. [Exit.

SCENE III. A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter GLOSTER and EDMUND.

Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnat
ural dealing. When I desired their leave that I mi°;lu

O o

pity him, they took from me the use of mine own
house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeas
ure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any
way sustain him.

Edm. Most savage, and unnatural !

Glo. Go to ; say you nothing. There is division
between the dukes; and a worse matter than that. I
have received a letter this night ; — 'tis dangerous to be
spoken. — I have locked the letter in my closet. These

1 Tuis speech is not in the quartos.

-- These linos are taken from what is commonly called Chaucer'3
Prophecy ; but which is much older than his time in its original form.
See the Works of Chaucer, in Whittingham's edit. vol. v. p. 17!).

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 71

injuries the king now bears will be revenged at home ;
there is part of a power already footed:1 we must in
cline to the king. I will seek him, and privily relieve
him ; go you, and maintain talk with the duke, that
my charity be not of him perceived. If he ask for me,
I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is
threatened me, the king my old master must be relieved.
There is some strange thing toward, Edmund ; pray
you, be careful. [Exit.

Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke
Instantly know ; and of that letter too. —
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses; no less than all :
The younger rises, when the old doth fall. [Exit.

SCENE IV. A Part of the Heath, ivith a Hovel.

Enter LEAR, KENT, and Fool.

Kent. Here is the place, my lord ; good my lord,

enter.

The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure. [Storm still.

Lear. Let me alone.

Kent. Good my lord, enter here.
Lear. Wilt break rny heart ?

Kent. I'd rather break mine own. Good my lord,

enter.
Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious

storm

Invades us to the skin : so 'tis to thee ;
But where the greater malady is fixed,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear ;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the

mind's free,
The body's delicate ; the tempest in my mind

1 The quartos read landed.

72 KING LEAR. [ACT III

Doth from my senses take all feeling else.

Save what beats there. — Filial ingratitude !

Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,

For lifting food to't ? — But I will punish home : —

No, I will weep no more. — In such a night

To shut me out ! — Pour on ; I will endure.1 —

In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril ! —

Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave you all —

O, that way madness lies ; let me shun that ;

No more of that.

Kent. Good my lord, enter here.

Lear. 'Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease ;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. — But I'll go in.
In, boy: go first. — [To the Fool.] You houseless2

poverty, —
Nay. get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. —

[Fool goes in.

Poor naked wretches, wrheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness,3 defend you
From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp ;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ;
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the Heavens more just.

Edg. [Within.'] Fathom and half, fathom and half!
Poor Tom ! 4

[The Fool runs out from the hovel.

Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit.
Help me, help me !

Kent. Give me thy hand. — Who's there ?

Fool. A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor
Tom.

1 This line is omitted in the quartos.

2 This and the next line are only in the folio.

3 Looped and windowed is full of holes and apertures.

4 This speech of Edgar's is omitted in the quartos. — He gives the
sign used hy those who are sounding the depth at sea.

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 73

Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i' the

straw ?
Come forth.

Enter EDGAR, disguised as a madman.

Edg. Away ! the foul fiend follows me : —
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. — •
Humph ! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters ?
And art thou come to this ?

Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom ? whom
the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame,
through ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire,
that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in
his pew ; set ratsbane by his porridge ; made him
proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over
four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a
traitor. — Bless thy five wits ! l Tom's a-cold. — O, do de,
do de, do de. — Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting,
and taking ! 2 Do poor Tom some charity, whom the
foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, — and
there, — and there, and there again, and there.

[Storm continues.

Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this

pass ? —
Couldst thou save nothing ? Did'st thou give them all ?

Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been
all ashamed.

Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters !

Kent. He hath no daughters, sir.

Lear. Death, traitor ! nothing could have subdued

nature

To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters. —
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers

1 It has been before observed, that the wits seem to have been reckoned
five by analogy to the five senses.

2 To take is to blast, or strike with malignant influence.

VOL. VII. 10

74 KING LEAR. [ACT III.

Should have thus little mercy on their flesh ?

Judicious punishment ! 'twas this flesh begot

Those pelican daughters.1

Edg. Pillicock2 sat on pillicock's-hill ; —

Halloo, halloo, loo, loo !

Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and

madmen.

Edg. Take heed o' the foul fiend ; obey thy parents;
keep thy word justly ; swear not ; commit not with
man's sworn spouse ; set not thy sweet heart on proud
array : Tom's a-cold.

Lear. What hast thou been ?

Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind ;
that curled my hair;3 wore gloves in my cap ;4 served
the lust of my mistress's heart, and did the act of
darkness with her ; swore as many oaths as I spake
words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven;
one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked
to do it. Wine loved I deeply ; dice dearly ; and in
woman, out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart,
Jight of ear,5 bloody of hand ; hog in sloth, fox in
stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in
prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling
of silks, betray thy poor heart to women. Keep thy
foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen
from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. — Still
through the hawthorn blows the cold wind : says suum,

1 The young pelican is fabled to suck the mother's blood. The allu
sions to this fable are very numerous in old writers.

2 It should be observed, that Killico is one of the devils mentioned in
Ilarsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures. The inquisitive reader may
find a further explanation of this word in Minsheu's Dictionary, art.
1)^99; and Chalmers's Works of Sir David Lindsay, Glossary, v. pillok.

3 " Then Ma. Mainy, by the instigation of the first of the seven,
[spirits.] began to set his hands unto his side, curled his hair, and used
such gestures as Ma. Edmunds [the exorcist] presently affirmed that
that spirit was Pride" Harsnefs Declaration, &c. ]603. Before each
sin was cast out, Mainy, by gestures, acted that particular sin — curling
his hair, to show pride, &c. &c.

4 It was anciently the custom to wear gloves in the hat on three
distinct occasions, viz. as the favor of a mistress, the memorial of a
friend, and as a mark to be challenged by an enemy.

5 Credulous of evil, ready to receive malicious reports.

SC. IV.]

KING LEAR.

75

mun, ha no nonnj, dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa :
let him trot by.1 [Storm still continues.

Lear. Why, thou were better in thy grave, than to
answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the
skies. — Is man no more than this ? Consider him well.
Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the
sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. — Ha ! here's three
of us are sophisticated ! — Thou art the thing itself;—
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare,
forked animal as thou art. — Off, off, you lendings. —
Come ; unbutton here.2 [Tearing off his clothes.

Fool. 'Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented ; this is a
naughty3 night to swim in. — Now a little fire in a wild
field were like an old lecher's heart ; a small spark, all
the rest of his body cold. — Look, here comes a walking
fire.

Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet;4 he

1 " Dolphin my boy, my boy,
Cease, let him trot by ;
It seemeth not that such a foe
From me or you would fly."

This is a stanza from a very old ballad, written on some battle fought
in France ; during which the king (unwilling to put the suspected valor
of his son, the dauphin, to the trial), as different champions cross the
field, always discovers some objection to his attacking each of them, and
repeats the two first lines as every fresh personage is introduced ; and at
last assists in propping up a dead body against a tree for him to try his
manhood upon. Steevens had this account from an old gentleman, who
was only able to report part of the ballad. In Jonson's Bartholomew
Fair Cokes cries out, " God's my life ! He shall be dauphin, my boy ! "
" Hey nonny nonny " is merely the burden of another ballad.

2 The words unbutton here are only in the folio. The quartos read,
Come on, be true.

3 Naughty signifies bad, wi/it, improper. This epithet was formerly
employed on serious occasions.

4 The name of this fiend, though so grotesque, was not invented by
Shakspeare, but by those who wished to impose upon their hearers the
belief of his actual existence ; this, and most of the fiends mentioned
by Edgar, being to be found in bishop Harsnet's book, among those
which the Jesuits, about the time of the Spanish invasion, pretended to
cast out, for the purpose of making converts. The principal scene of
this farce was laid in the family of Mr. Edmund Peckham, a Catholic.
Harsnet published his account of the detection of the imposture, by
order of the privy council. " Frateretto, Fliberdigibet, Hoberdidance,
Tocobatto, were four devils of the round or morrice. — These four had
forty assistants under them, as themselves doe confesse. Flebergibbe ia

76

KING LEAR.

[ACT III.

begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock ; he
gives the web and the pin,1 squints the eye, and makes
the hare-lip ; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the
poor creature of earth.

Saint Withold footed thrice the wold ; 2
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold ,

Bid her alight.

And her troth plight,
And, Aroint thee, witch, aroint thee ! 3

Kent. How fares your grace ?

Enter GLOSTER, with a torch.

Lear. What's he ?

Kent. Who's there ? What is't you seek ?

Glo. What are you there ? Your names ?

Edg. Poor Tom ; that eats the swimming frog, the
toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water ; 4 that
in the fury of the heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats
cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat, and the
ditch-dog ; drinks the green mantle of the standing-
pool ; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and
stocked, punished, and imprisoned ; who hath had three-
suits to his back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride,
and weapon to wear, —

But mice and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom^s food for seven long year.5

used by Latimer for a sycophant ; and Cotgrave explains Coquette by
a Flebergibet or Titifill."

It was an old tradition that spirits were relieved from the confinement
in which they were held during the day, at the time of curfew, that is,
at the close of the day, and were permitted to wander at large till the
first cock-crowing. Hence, in The Tempest, they are said to "rejoice
to hear the solemn curfew."

1 The pin and web is a disease of the eyes resembling the cataract in
an imperfect stage.

- About St. Withold we have no certainty. This adventure is not
found in the common legends of St. Fitalis, whom Mr. Tyrwhitt thought
was meant.

3 See Macbeth. 4 i. e. and the water-new£.

5 In the metrical Romance of Sir Bevis, who was confined seven years
in a dungeon, it is said that

" Rattcs and mice, and such smal dere,
Was his meat that seven yere."

SC. IV.] KING LEAR. 11

Beware my follower. Peace, Smolkin ; l peace, thou
fiend !

Glo. What, hath jour grace no better company ?

Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman ;
Modo he's called, and Mahu.1

Glo. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile,
That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold.

Glo. Go in with me ; my duty cannot suffer
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands.
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
Yet have I ventured to come to seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.

Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher. —
What is the cause of thunder ?

Kent. Good my lord, take his offer ;
Go into the house.

Lear. Pll talk a word with this same learned

Theban.
What is your study ?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.

Lear. Let me ask you one word in private.

Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord ;
His wits begin to unsettle.2

o

1 " The names of other punie spirits cast out of Twy ford were these: — •
Hilco, Smolkin, Hillio," &c. — Harsnefs Detection, &c. p. 49. Again,
" Maho was the chief devil that had possession of Sarah Williams ; but
another of the possessed, named Richard Mainy, was molested by a still
more considerable fiend, called Modu," p. 268 ; where the said Richard
Mainy deposes: — "Furthermore it is pretended, that there remaineth still
in mee the prince of devils, whose name should be Modu" And, p. 269 : —
" When the said priests had despatched their business at Hackney
(where they had been exorcising- Sarah Williams), they then returned
towards mee, upon pretence to cast the great prince Modu out of mee."

In the Goblins, by sir John Suckling, a catch is introduced, which con
cludes with these two lines : —

" The prince of darkness is a gentleman ;
Mahu, Mahu is his name."

This catch may not be the production of Suckling, but the original
referred to by Edgar's speech.

2 Lord Orford has the following remark in the postscript to his Myste
rious Mother: — "The finest picture ever drawn of a head discomposed
by misfortune is that of king Lear. His thoughts dwell on the mgrati-

7S KING LEAR. [ACT III.

Glo. Canst thou blame him ?

His daughters seek his death. — Ah, that good Kent !—
Jle said it would be thus; — poor banished man!—
Thou say'st, the king grows mad ; I'll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself. I had a son,
Now outlawed from my blood ; he sought my life,
But lately, very late ; I loved him, friend, —
No lather his son dearer : true to tell thee,

[Storm continues.

The grief hath crazed my wits. — What a night's this !
I do beseech your grace,

Lear. O, cry you mercy,

Noble philosopher, your company.

Edg. Tom's a-cold.

Glo. In, fellow, there, to the hovel ; keep thee
warm.

Lear. Come, let's in all.

Kent. This way, my lord.

Lear. With him ;
I will keep still with my philosopher.

Kent. Good my lord, soothe him ; let him take the
fellow.

Glo. Take him you on.

Kent. Sirrah, come on ; go along with us.

Lear. Come, good Athenian.

Glo. No words, no words.

Hush.

Edg. Child Rowland l to the dark tower came,
His word was still, — Fie, f oh, and j Mm,

I smell the blood of a British man. [Exeunt.

tude of his daughters, and every sentence that falls from his wildness
excites reflection and pity. Had fren/.y entirely seized him, our com
passion would abate ; we should conclude that he no longer felt unhap-
piness."

1 Capel observes, that Child Rowland means the knight Orlando. He
would read come, with the quartos, absolutely (Orlando being come to the
dark tower] ; and supposes a line to be lost, "which spoke of some giant,
the inhabitant of that tower, and the smeller-out of Child Rowland, who
comes to encounter him." He proposes to fill up tho passage thus ; —
" Child Rowland to the dark tower come,
[ The giant roared, and out he ran ;]
His word was still," &c.
Part of this is to be found in the second part of Jack and the Giants,

SC. V.] KING LEAR. 79

SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter CORNWALL and EDMUND.

Corn. I will have my revenge ere I depart this
house.

Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, that na
ture thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to
think of.

Corn. I now perceive it was not altogether your
brother's evil disposition made him seek his death ; but
a provoking merit,1 set a-work by a reprovable bad
ness in himself.

Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I must re
pent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which
approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of
France. O Heavens ! that this treason were not, or
not I the detector !

Corn. Go with me to the duchess.

Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, you
have mighty business in hand.

Corn. True or false, it hath made thee earl of Glos-
ter. Seek out where thy father is, that he may be
ready for our apprehension.

Edm. [ Aside.] If I find him comforting the king, it
will stuff his suspicion more fully. — I will persevere in
my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore be
tween that and my blood.

Corn. I will lay trust upon thee ; and thou shalt
find a dearer father in my love. [Exeunt*

which, if not as old as the time of Shakspeare, may have been compiled
from something that was so : they are uttered by a giant: —

I smell the blood of an Englishman ;

Be he alive, or be he dead,

I'll grind his bones to make my bread."

i Cornwall seems to mean the merit of Edmund ; which, being noticed
by Gloster, provoked or instigated Edgar to seek his father's death.

80 KING LEAR. [ACT III

SCENE VI. A Chamber in a Farm-House, adjoin
ing the Castle.

Enter GLOSTER, LEAR, KENT, Fool, and EDGAR.

Glo. Here is better than the open air ; take it
thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what
addition I can ; I will not be long from you.

Kent. All the power of his wits has given way to his
impatience. — The gods reward your kindness !

[Exit GLOSTER.

Edg. Frateretto1 calls me; and tells me Nero is an
angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent,2 and
beware the foul fiend.

Fool. 'Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a madman
be a gentleman, or a yeoman ?

Lear. A king, a king!

Fool. No ; he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to
his son ; for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a
gentleman before him.

Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits
Come hissing 3 in upon them : —

Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.4

Fool. He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a
wolf, a horse's heels,5 a boy's love, or a whore's oath.

Lear. It shall be done ; I Avill arraign them straight.

Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer ; G

[To EDGAR

1 Rabelais says that Nero was a fiddler in hell, and Trajan an angler.

2 Perhaps he is here addressing the fool. Fools were anciently
termed innocents.

3 The old copies have frizzing, which Malone changed to whizzing. One
of the quartos spells the word hiszing, which indicates that the reading of
Hie present text is right.

1 This and the next thirteen speeches are only in the quartos.

5 The old copies read, "a horse's health;" but heels was certainly
meant. " Trust not a horse's heels, nor a dog's tooth." is a proverb in
Ray's Collection; which may be traced at least as fur back as the time
of our Edward II.

G Jnsticer, from justiciarius, was the old term, as we learn from Lam-
bard's Eirenarcha.

SC. VI.] KING LEAR. 81

Thou, sapient sir, sit here. [To the Tool.] — Now, you

she-foxes ! —

Edg. Look, where he stands and glares ! —
Wantest tliou eyes at trial, madam ? l

Come o'er the bourn? Bessy to me. —

Fool. Her boat hath a leak,

And she must not speak
Why she dares not come over to thee.

Eds;. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice
of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly3 for
two white herrings. Croak not, black angel ; I have
no food for thee.

Kent. How do you, sir ? Stand you not so amazed.
Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions ?

Lear. I'll see their trial first. — Bring in the evi
dence.—
Thou robed man of justice, take thy place ;

[To EDGAR.

And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, [To the Fool.
Bench by his side. — You are of the commission,
Sit you too. [To KENT.

1 " Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam ? " is a question addressed to
some visionary spectator, and may mean no more than " Do you want
eyes Avhen you should use them most ? that you cannot see this spectre."

2 A bourn is a brook or rivulet. At the beginning of A Very Mery
and Pythie Comedie, called the Longer Thou Livest The More Fool
Thou Art, &c. blk. let, no date: — " Entreth Moros, counterfaiting a vain
gesture and foolish countenance, synging the foote of many songs, as
fooles were wont ; " and among them is this passage : —

" Com over the boorne Besse,
My litle pretie Besse,
Come over the boorne, Besse, to me."

The old copies read, " o'er the broome ; " and Johnson suggested, as there
was no connection between a boat and a broom, that it Avas an error.
Steevens made the correction, and adduced this illustration. There is
peculiar propriety in this address: Bessy and poor Tom usually travelled
together, as appears by a passage cited from Dick IFhipper's Sessions.
1607, by Malone. Mad women, "who travel about the country, are called,
in Shropshire, Cousin Bellies, and elsewhere, Mad Bessies.

3 Much of this may have been suggested by Harsnet's book. Hober-
didance is mentioned in a former note. " One time shoo remembereth
that, shee having the said croaking in her belly, they said it was the devil
that was about the bed, that spake with the voice of a toad," p. 194,
195, &c.

VOL. VII. 11

KING LEAR. [ACT III

Edg. Let us deal justly.

Steepest, or ivakest thou, jolly shepherd ?

Thy sheep be in the corn ;
And for one blast of thy minikin1 mouth,

Thy sheep shall take no harm.

Pur ! the cat is gray.

Lear. Arraign her first ; 'tis Goneril. I here take
my oath before this honorable assembly, she kicked the
poor king her father.

Fool. Come hither, mistress. Is your name Gon
eril ?

Lear. She cannot deny it.

Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a jointstool.2

Lear. And here's another, whose warped looks

proclaim

What store her heart is made of. — Stop her there !
Anns, arms, sword, fire ! — Corruption in the place !
False justicer, why hast thou let. her 'scape ?
Edg. Bless thy five wits!

Kent. O pity ! — Sir, where is the patience now,
That you so oft have boasted to retain ?

Edg. My tears begin to take his part so much,
They'll mar my counterfeiting. [Aside.

Lear. The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.

Edg. Tom will throw his head at them. —
A vaunt, you curs !

Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite ;
Mastiff*, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound, or spaniel, brach, or lym ; 3
Or bobtail tike,4 or trundle-tail ;
Tom will make them weep and wail :

1 Minikin was anciently a term of endearment. — Baret, in his Alvearie,
interprets feat by "proper, well-fashioned, minikin, handsome."

2 This proverbial expression occurs likewise in Lyly's Mother Bom-
bie, 1594.

3 A lym or lyme was a blood-hound (see Minsheu's Diet, in voce) ;
sometimes also called a limm.er or learner ; from the learn or leash, in which
he was held till he was let slip.

4 Tijk is the Runic word for a little worthless dog. Trindlctails are

SC. VI.] KING LEAR. 83

For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do de, de de. Sessa.1 Come, march to wakes and
fairs, and market towns. — Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.2

Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan, see what
breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in nature,
that makes these hard hearts ? — You, sir, I entertain
you for one of my hundred ; only I do not like the
fashion of your garments. You will say they are Per
sian attire ; but let them be changed. [To EDGAR.

Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here, and rest awhile.3

Lear. Make no noise, make no noise ; draw the
curtains. So, so, so. We'll go to supper i' the morn
ing. So, so, so.

Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon.

Re-enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Come hither, friend ; where is the king my
master ?

Kent. Here, sir ; but trouble him not, his wits are
gone.

Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy arms ;
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him.
There is a litter ready ; lay him in't,
And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shaltmeet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.
If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up ; 4

mentioned in The Booke of Huntyng, &c., blk. let, no date ; and in the
old comedy of A Woman Killed with Kindness.

1 Sessa ; this word occurs before in the fourth scene of this act. It
is spelled sessey in both places in the old copy. The same word occurs
in the Induction to the Taming of the Shrew, where it is spelled sessa ; it
appears to have been a corruption of cesscz, stop or hold, be quiet, have
done.

2 A horn was usually carried about by every Tom of Bedlam, to receive
such drink as the charitable might afford him, with whatever scraps of
food they might give him.

3 i. e. on the cushions to which he points.

4 One of the quartos reads, " Take up the king ;" the other, " Take up
to keep," &c.

84 KING LEAR. [ACT III

And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct.

[Kent. Oppressed nature sleeps.1 —

This rest might jet have balmed thy broken senses,
Which, if convenience will not allow7,
Stand in hard cure. — Come, help to bear thy master ;
Thou must not stay behind. [To the Fool.

Glo. Come, come, away.

[Exeunt KENT, GLOSTER, and the Fool, bear
ing off the King.

Edg. When we our betters see bearing our wroes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Who alone suffers, suffers most i' the mind;
Leaving free things, and happy shows, behind :
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip,
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
How light and portable my pain seems now,
When that which makes me bend, makes the king

bowr ;

He childed, as I fathered ! — Tom, away !
Mark the high noises,2 and thyself bewray,3
When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee,
In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee.
What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king !
Lurk, lurk.] [Exit.

SCENE VI I. A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GONERIL, EDMUND, and
Servants.

Corn. Post speedily to rny lord your husband ; show
him this letter ; — the army of France is landed. — Seek
out the villain Gloster. [Exeunt some of the Servants.

1 These two concluding speeches, by Kent and Edgar, are restored
from the quarto.

2 The great events that are approaching, the loud tumult of approach
ing war.

3 Betray, discover.

SC. VII.] KING LEAR. 85

Reg. Hang him instantly.

Gon. Pluck out his eyes.

Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, keep
you our sister company ; the revenges we are bound to
take upon your traitorous father, are not fit for your
beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to
a most festinate preparation ; we are bound to the like.
Our post shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt us.
Farewell, dear sister ; — farewell, my lord of Gloster.1

Enter Steward.

How now ? Where's the king ?

Stew. My lord of Gloster hath conveyed him hence.
Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
Hot questrists 2 after him, met him at gate ;
Who, with some other of the lord's dependants,
Are gone with him towards Dover ; where they boast
To have well-armed friends.

Corn. Get horses for your mistress.

Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.

[Exeunt GONERIL and EDMUND.
Corn. Edmund, farewell. — Go, seek the traitor

Gloster,
Pinion him like a thief ; bring him before us.

[Exeunt other Servants.
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice, yet our power
Shall do a courtesy 3 to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not control. Who's there ? the trai
tor ?

Re-enter Servants, with GLOSTER.

Reg. Ingrateful fox ! 'tis he.
Corn. Bind fast his corky 4 arms.

1 Meaning Edmund, invested with his father's titles.

~ A questrist is one who goes in quest or search of another.

3 " Do a courtesy to our wrath," simply means bend to our wrath, as a
courtesy is made by bending the body.

4 i. e. dry, ivithered, husky arms. This epithet was, perhaps, borrowed
from Harsnet : — " It would pose all the cunning exorcists that are this

66 KING LEAR. [ACT III

Glo. What mean your graces ? — Good my friends,

consider
You are my guests ; do me no foul play, friends.

Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him.

Reg. Hard, hard. — O filthy traitor !

Glo. Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none.

Corn. To this chair bind him. — Villain, thou shalt
find [REGAN plucks his beard.

Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done,
T} pluck me by the beard.

Reg. So while, and such a traitor !

Glo. Naughty lady,

These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
Will quicken, and accuse thee. 1 am your host ;
With robbers' hands, my hospitable favors l
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do ?

Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from
France ?

Reg. Be simple answered, for we know the truth.

Corn. And what confederacy have you with the

traitors
Late footed in the kingdom ?

Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king ?
Speak.

Glo. I have a letter guessingly set down,
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
And not from one opposed.

Corn. Cunning.

Reg. And false.

Corn. Where hast thou sent the king ?

Glo. To Dover.

Reg. Wherefore
To Dover ? Wast thou not charged at peril

Corn. Wherefore to Dover ? Let him first answer
that.

Glo. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the
course.

day to be found, to teach an old corkie woman to writhe, tumble, curvet,
and fetch her morice gambols as Martha Bressier did."
1 Favors mean the same us features.

SC. VII.] KING LEAR. 87

Reg. Wherefore to Dover ?

Glo. Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes ; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick bearish fangs.1
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up,
And quenched the stelled2 fires ; yet, poor old heart,
He holp the heavens to rain.

If wolves had at thy gate howled that stern3 time,
Thou shouldst have said, Good porter, turn the key;
All cruels else subscribed.4 — But I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.

Corn. See it shalt thou never. — Fellows, hold the

chair ;
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.

[GLOSTER is held down in his chair, while
CORNWALL plucks out one of his eyes, and
sets his foot on it.

Glo. He that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help. — O cruel ! O ye gods !

Reg. One side will mock another ; the other too.

Corn. If you see vengeance,

Serv. Hold your hand, my lord

I have served you ever since I was a child ;
But better service have I never done you,
Than now to bid you hold.

Reg. How now, you dog ?

Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I'd shake it on this quarrel ; what do you mean ?

Corn. My villain ! 5 [Draius, and runs at him.

1 The quarto reads, " rash, bearish fangs." To rash is the old hunting
term for the stroke made by a wild-boar with his fangs.

2 Starred.

3 Thus the folio. The quartos read, " that dearn time." Dearn is
dreary. The reading in the text is countenanced by Chapman's version
of the 24th Iliad :—

" In this so sterne a time

Of night and danger."

4 i. e. yielded, submitted to the necessity of the occasion.

5 Villain is perhaps here used in its original sense, of one in servitude

88 KING LEAR. [ACT III.

Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of
anger.

[Draws. They fight. CORN, is wounded.
Reg. Give me thy sword. — [To another Serv.] A
peasant stand up thus !

[Snatches a sword, comes behind him, and

stabs him.
Serv. O, I am slain ! — My lord, you have one eye

left

To see some mischief on him. — O ! [Dies.

Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it. — Out, vile jelly!
Where is thy lustre now ?

[Tears out GLOSTER'S other eye, and throws

it on the ground.
Glo. All dark and comfortless. — Where's my son

Edmund ?

Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,
To quit * this horrid act.

Reg. Out, treacherous villain !

Thou call'st on him that hates thee. It was he
That made the overture of thy treason to us ;
Who is too good to pity thee.

Glo. O my follies !

Then Edgar was abused. —

O

Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him !

Reg. Go, thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
His way to Dover. — How is't, my lord ? How look
you?

Corn. I have received a hurt. — Follow me, lady.
Turn out that eyeless villain ; — throw this slave
Upon the dunghill. — Regan, I bleed apace ;
Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.

[Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN ; — Servants unbind
GLOSTER, and lead him out.2

1 Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do,
[f this man comes to good.

2 Serv. If she live long,

1 Requite.

2 The residue of this act is not contained in the folio of 1623.

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 89

And, in the end, meet the old course of death,
Women will all turn monsters.

1 Serv. Let's follow the old earl, and get the bed

lam

To lead him where he would ; his roguish madness
Allows itself to any thing.

2 Serv. Go thou ; I'll fetch some flax, and whites

of eggs,

To apply to his bleeding face. Now, Heaven help
him ! [Exeunt severally.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Heath.

Enter EDGAR.

Edg. Yet better thus, and know to be contemned,
Than still contemned and flattered.1 To be worst,
The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear.
The lamentable change is from the best ;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,2
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace !
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts. — But who comes here ? —

Enter GLOSTER, led by an Old Man.

My father, poorly led ? — World, world, O world !
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yield to age.3

1 " It is better to be thus openly contemned, than to be flattered and
secretly despised."

2 The next two lines and a half are not in the quartos.

3 We should never submit with resignation to death, the necessary
consequence of old age.

VOL. VII. 12

90 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

Old Man. O my good lord, I have been jour tenant,
and your father's tenant, these fourscore years.

Glo. Away, get thee away ; good friend, be gone.
Thy comforts can do me no good at all ;
Thee they may hurt.

Old Man. Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.

Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes ;
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen,
Our mean secures us,1 and our mere defects
Prove our commodities. — Ah, dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath !
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,2
I'd say, 1 had eyes again !

Old Man. How now ? Who's there ?

Edg. [Aside.'] O gods ! who is't can say, / am

at the worst ?
I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom.

Edg. [Aside.] And worse I may be yet. The

worst is not,
So long as we can say, This is the ivorst.3

Old Man. Fellow, where goest ?

Glo. Is it a beggar man ?

Old Man. Madman and beggar too.

Glo. He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I 'the last night's storm I such a fellow saw ;
Which made me think a man a worm. My son
Came then into my mind ; and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more

since ;

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods ;
They kill us for their sport.

Edg. How should this be ? —

Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow,

1 Mean is here put for our moderate or mean conditions. It was some
times the practice of the Poet's age to use the plural, when the subject
spoken of related to more persons than one. To avoid the equivoque,
Pope changed the reading of the old copy to "our mean secures us."

* So in another scene, " I see it feelingly"

3 i. e. while we live.

SC. I.] KING LEAR. 91

Angering itself and others. [Aside.} — Bless thee,
master !

Glo. Is that the naked fellow ?

Old Man. Ay, my lord.

Glo. Then, 'pr'ythee, get thee gone. If, for my sake,
Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,
I 'the way to Dover, do it for ancient love ;
And bring some covering for this naked soul,
Whom I'll entreat to lead me.

Old Man. Alack, sir, he's mad.

Glo. 'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the

blind.

Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure.
Above the rest, be gone.

Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,
Come on't what will. [Exit.

Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow!

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. — I cannot daub it further.

[Aside.

Glo. Come hither, fellow.

Edg. [Aside.'} And yet I must. — Bless thy sweet
eyes, they bleed.

Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover ?

Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path.
Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless
the good man from the foul fiend ! Five fiends ! have
been in poor Tom at once ; of lust, as Obidicut ;
ffobbididance, prince of dumbness ; Mahu, of stealing ;
Modo, of murder ; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and
mowing ; who since possesses chambermaids and wait
ing-women. So, bless thee, master !

Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the Heaven's

plagues
Have humbled to all strokes ; that I am wretched,

1 " The devil in Ma. Mainy confessed his name to be Modu, and that
he had besides himself seven other spirits, and all of them captaines, and
of great fame. Then Edmundes, (the exorcist,) began againe with great

earnestness, and all the company cried out, &c. so as both that

wicked prince Modu and his company might be cast out" — Harsnet, p.
163. This passage will account for " five fiends having been in poor
Tom at once."

92 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

Makes thee the happier. — Heavens, deal so still !

Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man,

That slaves your ordinance,1 that will not see

Because he doth not feel, feel jour power quickly;

So distribution should undo excess,

And each man have enough. — Dost thou know Dover ?

Edg. Ay, master.

Glo. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in2 the confined deep.
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And Pll repair the misery thou dost bear,
With something rich about me. From that place
I shall no leading need.

Edg. Give me thy arm ;

Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Before the Duke of Albany's Palace.

Enter GONERIL and EDMUND ; Steward meeting them.

Gon. Welcome, my lord ; I marvel, our mild husband
Not met us on the way. — Now, where's your master ?

Stew. Madam, within ; but never man so changed.
I told him of the army that was landed ;
He smiled at it. I told him you were coming ;
His answer was, The ivorse : of Gloster's treachery,
And of the loyal service of his son,
When I informed him, then he called me sot,
And told me I had turned the wrong side out. —
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him ;
What like, offensive.

Gon. Then shall you go no further.

[To EDMUND.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake ; he'll not feel wrongs,
Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes, on the way,

1 To slave an ordinance is to treat it as a slave, to make it subject to
us, instead of acting in obedience to it. The quartos read, " That stands
your ordinance," which may be right, says Malone, and means with
stands or abides.

2 In is here put for on, as in other places of these plays.

SC. II KING LEAR. 93

May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;

Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers ;

I must change arms at home, and give the distaff

Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant

Shall pass between us : ere long you are like to hear,

If you dare venture in your own behalf,

A mistress's command. Wear this ; spare speech ;

[Giving a favor.

Decline your head : this kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air ; —
Conceive, and fare thee well.

Edm. Yours in the ranks of death.

Gon. My most dear Gloster !

[Exit EDMUND

O, the difference of man, and man !
To thee a woman's services are due ;
My fool usurps my bed.1

Stew. Madam, here comes my lord.

[Exit Steward.

Enter ALBANY.

Gon. I have been worth the whistle.2

Alb. O Goneril.!

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face — I fear your disposition.3
That nature, which contemns its origin,
Cannot be bordered certain in itself;
She that herself will sliver and disbranch
From her material sap,4 perforce must wither,
And come to deadly use.5

1 Quarto A. reads " my foot usurp my body ; " Quarto B., " my foot
usurps my head ; " Quarto C., " a fool usurps my bed" The folio reads,
" my fool usurps my body."

~ Goneril's meaning seems to be, " There was a time when you would
have thought me worth the calling to you."

3 These words, and the lines following1, to monsters of the deep, are not
in die folio. They are necessary to explain the reasons of the detesta
tion which Albany here expresses to his wife.

4 » She who breaks the bonds of filial duty, and becomes wholly alien
ated from her father, must wither and perish, like a branch separated
from that trunk or body which " supplied it with sap." There is a peculiar
propriety in the use of the word material ; materia (Lat.) signifying the
trunk or body of the tree.

5 Alluding to the use that witches and enchanters are said to make of
withered branches in their charms.

94 KING LEAR. [ACT IV

Gon. No more ; the text is foolish.

Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;
Filths savor but themselves. What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed ?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Whose, reverence the head-Jugged bear would lick,1
Most barbarous, most degenerate ! have you madded
Could my good brother 'suffer you to do it!
A man, a prince, by him so benefited ?
If that the Heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
'Twill come,

Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.

Gon. Milk-livered man !

That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honor from thy suffering ; that not know'st,2
Fools do those villains pity, who are punished
Ere they have done their mischief.3 Where's thy drum ?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land ;
With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats ;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sitt'st still, and cry'st,
Alack ! why does he so f

Alb. See thyself, devil !

Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid, as in woman.

Gon. O vain fool !

Alb. Thou changed and self-covered 4 thing, for shame,
Be-monster not thy feature.5 Were it my fitness

1 This line is not in the folio.

2 The rest of this speech is also omitted in the folio.

3 " Goneril means to say that none but fools would be excited to com
miserate those who are prevented from executing their malicious designs,
and punished for their evil intention." Malone doubts whether Goneril
alludes to her father ; but surely there cannot be a doubt that she does,
and to the pity for his sufferings expressed by Albany, whom she means
indirectly to call a. fool for expressing it.

4 The meaning appears to be, " thou that hast hid the Avoman under the
fiend ; thou that hast disguised nature, by wickedness."

5 It has been already observed that feature was often used for form or
person in general.

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 95

To let these hands obey my blood,1
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones. — Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's shape doth shield thee.
Gon. Marry, your manhood now !

Enter a Messenger.

Alb. What news ?

Mess. O my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's dead ;
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Gloster.

Alb. Gloster's eyes ?

Mess. A servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse.
Opposed against the act, bending his sword
To his great master ; who, thereat enraged,
Flew on him, and amongst them felled him dead ;
But not without that harmful stroke, which since
Hath plucked him after.

Alb. This shows you are above,

You justicers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can venge ! — But, O poor Gloster!
Lost he his other eye ?

Mess. Both, both, my lord. —

This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer ;
'Tis from your sister.

Gon. [Aside.] One way I like this well ; 2
But being widow, and my Gloster with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life. Another way,
The news is not so tart. — I'll read and answer. [Exit.

Alb. Where was his son when they did take his eyes?

Mess. Come with my lady hither.

Alb. He is not here.

Mess. No, my good lord ; I met him back again.

1 My blood is my passion, my inclination.

2 Goneril's plan was to poison her sister, to marry Edmund, to murder
Albany, and to get possession of the whole kingdom. As the death of
Cornwall facilitated the last part of her scheme, she was pleased at it;
but disliked it, as it put it in the power of her sister to marry Edmund

96 KING LEAR. [ACT IV

Alb. Knows he the wickedness ?

Mess. Ay, my good lord ; 'twas he informed against

him ;

And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.

Alb. Gloster, I live

To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend ;
Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.1 The French Camp near Dover.

Enter KENT and a Gentleman.

Kent. Why the king of France is so suddenly gone
back, know you the reason ?

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state,
Which since his coming forth is thought of; which
Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his personal return was most required,
And necessary.

Kent. Who hath he left behind him general ?

Gent. The mareschal of France, monsieur le Fer.

Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any
demonstration of grief?

Gent. Ay, sir ; she took them, read them in my

presence ;

And now and then an ample tear trilled down
Her delicate cheek. It seemed, she was a queen
Over her passion ; who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.

Kent. O, then it moved her.

Gent. Not to a rage ; patience and sorrow strove
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears

1 This scene is left out in the folio copy.

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 97

Were like a better way.1 Those happy smiles,2
That played on her ripe lip, seemed not to know
What guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropped.3 — In brief, sorrow
Would be a rarity most beloved, if all
Could so become it.

Kent. Made she no verbal question?4

Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heaved the name

of father

Pantingly forth, as if it pressed her heart ;
Cried, Sisters! sisters! — Shame of ladies ! sisters!
Kent! father! sisters ! What! V the storm ? z' the night ?
Let pity not be believed!5 — There she shook
The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
And clamor moistened ; G then away she started
To deal with grief alone.

Kent. It is the stars,

The stars above us, govern our conditions;7
Else one self mate and mate,8 could not beget
Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?

Gent. No.

Kent. Was this before the king returned ?

Gent. No; since.

Kent. Well, sir ; the poor, distressed Lear is i' the

town ;

Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about, and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter.

1 Both the quartos read, " Were like a better way" Steevens reads,
upon the suggestion of Theobald, " a better day."' Warburton reads, " a
wetter Mai/" Malone adopts a part of his emendation, and reads, " a
better May" Mr. Boaden proposes to read,

" her smiles and tears

Were like ; — a better way."

2 The quartos read smilets, which may be a diminutive of the Poet's
coining.

3 Steevens would read dropping ; but as must be understood to signify
as if.

4 i. e. discourse, conversation.

5 i. e. let not pity be supposed to exist.

6 That is, " her outcries were accompanied with tears."

7 Conditions are dispositions.

s i. e. the self-same husband and wife.

VOL. VII. 13

98 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

Gent. Why, good sir ?

Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him ; his own

unkindness,

That stripped her from his benediction, turned' her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters, — these things sting
His mind so venomously, that burning shame
Detains him from Cordelia.

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman !

Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard
not?

Gent. 'Tis so ; they are afoot.

Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause ]
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile ;
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
Along with me. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. A Tent.

Enter CORDELIA, Physician, and Soldiers.

Cor. Alack, 'tis he ; why, he was met even now
As mad as the vexed sea ; singing aloud ;
Crowned with rank fumiter,2 and furrow weeds,
With harlocks,3 hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel,4 and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth ;
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.] — What
can man's wisdom do,5

1 Important business.

a i. e. fumitory, written by the old herbalists fumitten/.

3 The quartos read hardocks,the folio hardokes. Drayton mention?
harlocks in one of his Eclogues. Perhaps the charlock (sinapis arvensis),
or wild-mustard, may be meant

4 Darnel, according to Gerard, is the most hurtful of weeds among1 corn.

5 Steevens says that do should be omitted as needless and injurious to
the metre. Do is found in none of the old copies but quarto B.

SC. V.] KING LEAR. 99

In the restoring his bereaved sense ?

He that helps him, take all my outward worth.

Phy. There is means, madam.
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,
The which he lacks ; that to provoke in him,
Are many simples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.

Cor. All blessed secrets,

All you unpublished virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears i be aidant, and remediate,
In the good man's distress ! — Seek, seek for him ;
Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it.1

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Madam, news ;

The British powers are marching hitherward.

Cor. 'Tis known before ; our preparation stands
In expectation of them. — O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about ;
Therefore great France

My mourning, and important2 tears hath pitied.
No blown 3 ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our aged father's right.
Soon may I hear and see him. [Exeunt

SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle,

Enter REGAN and Steward.

Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth ?

Stew. Ay, madam.

Reg. Himself

In person there ?

Stew. Madam, with much ado ;

Your sister is the better soldier.

1 i. e. the reason which should guide it

2 Important for importunate.

3 No inflated, no swelling pride.

100 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with jour lord at
home ?

Stew. No, madam.

Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him ?

Stew. I know not, lady.

Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out,
To let him live ; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his misery, to despatch
His nighted life ; moreover, to descry
The strength o'the enemy.

Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my
letter.

Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow ; stay with us ;
The ways are dangerous.

Stew. I may not, madam ;

My lady charged my duty in this business.

Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might

not you

Transport her purposes by word ? Belike,
Something — I know not what. — I'll love thee much,
Let me unseal the letter.

Stew. Madam, I had rather

Reg. I know your lady does not love her husband ;
I am sure of that ; and, at her late being here,
She gave strange oeiliads,1 and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.

Stew. I, madam ?

Reg. I speak in understanding ; you are, I know it ;
Therefore, I do advise you, take this note.2
My lord is dead ; Edmund and I have talked ;
And more convenient is he for my hand,
Than for your lady's ; — you may gather more.3
If you do find him, pray you, give him this ; 4

1 (Eilladc (Fr.), a cast or significant glance of the eye.

2 That is, observe what I am saying.

3 You may infer more than I have directly told you.

4 Perhaps a ring, or some token, is given to the steward by Regan to
be conveyed to Edmund.

SC. VI.] KING LEAR. 101

And when jour mistress hears thus much from you,

I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.

So, fare you w;ell.

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,

Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam ! I would

show
What party I do follow.

Reg. Fare thee well. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.1 The Country near Dover.

Enter GLOSTER and EDGAR, dressed like a Peasant.

Glo. When shall we come to the top of that same
hill?

Edg. You do climb up it now; look, how we labor.

Glo. Me thinks the ground is even.

Edg. Horrible steep.

Hark, do you hear the sea ?

Glo. No, truly.3

Edg. Why, then your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes' anguish.

Glo. So may it be, indeed.

Methinks thy voice is altered ; 3 and thou speak'st
In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst.

Edg. You are much deceived ; in nothing am I

changed
But in my garments.

Glo. Methinks you are better spoken.

Edg. Come on, sir ; here's the place ; stand still.
— How fearful

1 This scene, and the stratagem by which Gloster is cured of his
desperation, are wholly borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, book ii.

- Something to complete the measure seems wanting in this or the
foregoing hemistich. The quartos read, as one line : —

" Horrible steep : hark, do you hear the sea ? "

3 Edgar alters his voice in order to pass afterwards for a malignant

spirit.

102 KING LEAR. [ACT IV

And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low !
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down
llanos one that gathers samphire ; l dreadful trade !
Meth inks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice ; and yon' tall, anchoring bark,
Diminished to her cock ; 2 her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more ;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

Glo. Set me where you stand,

Edg. Give me your hand. You are now within a

foot

Of the extreme verge ; for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.

Glo. Let go my hand.

Here, friend, is another purse ; in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies, and gods,
Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. [Seems to go.

Glo. With all my heart.

Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his despair,
Is done to cure it.

Glo. O, you mighty gods !

This world I do renounce ; and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great affliction off.
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great, opposeless wrills,
My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should

1 " Samphire grows in great plenty on most of the sea-cliffs in this
country: it is terrible to see how people gather it, hanging by a rope
several fathom from the top of the impending rocks, ns it were in the
air."— Smith's History of Water ford, p. 315, edit. 1774.— Dover cliff was
particularly resorted to for this plant. It is still eaten as a pickle in those
parts of England bordering on the southern coast.

~ i. e. her cock-boat. Hence the term cockswain.

SC. VI.] KING LEAR. 103

Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him ! —
Now, fellow, fare thee well.

[He leaps, and falls along.

Edg. Gone, sir ? farewell. —

And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself
Yields to the theft.1 Had he been where he thought,
By this, had thought been past. — Alive, or dead ?
Ho, you sir ! friend ! — Hear you, sir ? — Speak !
Thus might he pass indeed.2 — Yet he revives.
What are you, sir?

Glo. Away, and let me die.

Edg. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feath
ers, air,

So many fathom down precipitating,
Thou hadst shivered like an egg : but thou dost

breathe ;
Hast heavy substance ; bleed'st not ; speak'st ; art

sound.

Ten masts at each 3 make not the altitude,
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell ;
Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.

Glo. But have I fallen, or no ?

Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.4
Look up a-height ; — the shrill-gorged lark so far
Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up.

Glo. Alack, I have no eyes. —
Is wretchedness deprived that benefit,
To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort,
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
And frustrate his proud will.

Edg. Give me your arm ;

Up. — So ; — how is't ? Feel you your legs ? You stand.

1 That is, " when life is willing to be destroyed."

2 « Thus might he die in reality."

3 i. e. drawn out, at length, or each added to the other. " Eche, exp.
draw out, ah Anglo-Saxon elcan, elcian, Diferre, vel a verb, to eak."
Skinner, Etymolog. Skinner is right in his last derivation ; it is from the
Anglo-Saxon eacan, to add. Pope changed this to attacht ; Johnson
would read on end; Steevens proposes at reach.

4 i. e. this chalky boundary of England.

104 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

Glo. Too well, too well.

Edg. This is above all strangeness.

Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that
Which parted from you ?

Glo. A poor, unfortunate beggar.

Edg. As I stood here below, methought his eyes
Were two full moons ; he had a thousand noses,
Horns welked,1 and waved like the enridged sea ;
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think that the clearest 2 gods, who make them honors
Of men's impossibilities,3 have preserved thee.

Glo. I do remember now ; henceforth I'll bear
Affliction, till it do cry out itself,

Enough, enough, and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man; often 'twould say,
The fiend, the fiend: he led me to that place.

Edg. Bear free 4 and patient thoughts. — But who
comes here ?

Enter LEAR, fantastically dressed up with flowers.

The safer sense 5 will ne'er accommodate
His master thus.

Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining ;
I am the king himself.

Edg. O thou side-piercing sight !

Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's
your press-money.6 That fellow handles his bow like

1 Welked is marked with protuberances. This and whelk are probably
only different forms of the same word. The welk is a small shell-fish, so
called, perhaps, because its shell is marked with convolved protuberant
ridges.

2 That is, the purest.

3 By men's impossibilities perhaps is meant what men call impossi
bilities.

4 " Beat free and patient thoughts." F)'ee here means pure, as in other
places of these plays.

5 " The safer sense (says Mr. Blakeway) seems to me to mean the eye
sight, which, says Edgar, will never more serve the unfortunate Lear s<->
well as those which Gloster has remaining will serve him, who is now
returned to a right mind.

6 It is evident, from the whole of this speech, that Lear fancied himself
in a battle. For the meaning of press-money, see the first scene of
Hamlet.

SC. VI.] KliNl* i^AR. 105

a crow-keeper ; l draw me a clothier's yard. — Look, look,
a mouse ! Peace, peace ; — this piece of toasted cheese
will do't. — There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a
giant. — Bring up the brown bills.2 — O, well flown,
bird ! — i' the clout, i' the clout ! hewgh ! — Give the
word.3

Edg. Sweet marjoram.

Lear. Pass.

Glo. I know that voice.

Lear. Ha ! Goneril ! — with a white beard ! — They
flattered me like a dog ; and told me I had white hairs
in my beard, ere the black ones were there. To say ay,
and no, to every thing I said ! — Ay and no too was no
good divinity.4 When the rain came to wet me once,
and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder
would not peace at my bidding; there I found them,
there I smelt them out. Go to, they are not men
o' their words. They told me I was every thing : 'tis a
lie ; I am not ague proof.

Glo. The trick 5 of that voice I do well remember.
Is't not the king ?

Lear. Ay, every inch, a king ;

When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
I pardoned that man's life : what was thy cause ? —
Adultery. —

Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery ! No ;
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.

1 Ascham, in speaking of awkward shooters, says : — " Another cowreth
down, and layeth out his buttockes as thoughe he would shoote at crowes."

2 Battle-axes.

3 Lear is here raving of archery, falconry , and a battle, jumbled together
in quick transition. " Well flown bird " was the falconer's expression when
the hawk was successful in her flight. The clout is the white mark a,t
which archers aim. By "give the word" the watchword in a camp is
meant. " The quartos read, " O well flown bird in the aijrc, hugh, give
the word."

4 It has been proposed to read, " To say ay and no to every thing I said
ay and no to, was no good divinity." Besides the inaccuracy of con
struction in the passage as it stands in the text, it does not appear how it
could be flattery to dissent from, as well as assent to. every thing Lear
said.

5 Trick is a word used for the peculiarity in a face,- voice, or gesture,
which distinguishes it from others.

VOL. VII. 14

106 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't, luxury,1 pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. —
Behold yon simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks presageth snow ; 2
That minces3 virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name ;
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse,4 goes to't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are centaurs,
Though women all above ;
But5 to the girdle clo the gods inherit,6
Beneath is all the fiends' ; there's hell, there's darkness,
there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench,
consumption. — Fie, fie, fie! pah; pah! Give mean
ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagi
nation. There's money for thee.

Glo. O, let me kiss that hand !

Lear. Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality.

Glo. O ruined piece of nature ! This great world
Shall so wear out to nought. — Dost thou know7 me ?

Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost
thou squiny at me ? No, clo thy worst, blind Cupid !
I'll not love. — Read thou this challenge ; mark but the
penning of it.

Glo. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.

Edg. I would not take this from report ; — it is.
And my heart breaks at it.

Lear. Read.

' i. c. incontinence,. ,

a The construction is, " Whose face presageth snow between her
forks." See Cotgrave's Diet, in v. Fourcheure.

3 i. e. puts on an outward, affected seeming of virtue. See Cotgrave
in v. Mineux-se.

4 The fdchtw is the polecat. A soiled horse is a horse that has been
fed with hay and corn during the winter, and is turned out in the spring
to take the first flush of grass, or has it cut and carried to him. This at
once cleanses the animal and fills him with blood. In the old copies the
preceding as well as the latter part of Lear's speech is printed as prose.
It is doubtful whether any part of it was intended for metre.

5 nut in its exceptive sense.

6 Possess.

SC. VI.] KING LEAR. 107

Glo. What, with the case of eyes ?

Lear. O, ho, are you there with me ? No eyes in
your head, nor no money in your purse ? Your eyes are
in a heavy case, your purse in a light ; yet you see how
this world goes.

Glo. I see it feelingly.

Lear. What, art mad ? A man may see how this
world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears; see
how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief. Hark,
in thine ear. Change places ; and, handy-dandy,
which is the justice, which is the thief? — Thou hast
seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar ?

Glo. Ay, sir.

Lear. And the creature run from the cur ? There
thou might'st behold the great image of authority ; a
dog's obeyed in office.
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand ;
Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine own back ;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the

cozener.

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear;
Robes, and furred gowns, hide all.1 Plate sin with gold,
And the strong larice of justice hurtless breaks ;
Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw doth pierce it.
None does offend, none, I say none ; I'll able 'em.2
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes ;
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not. — Now, now, now,

now.
Pull off my boots ; — harder, harder ; so.

Edg. O, matter and impertinency 3 mixed !
Reason in madness !

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough ; thy name is Gloster.

1 From " hide all " to " accuser's lips " is wanting in the quartos.

2 i. e. support or uphold them.

3 Impertinency here is used in its old legitimate sense of something
not belonging to the subject.

108 KING LEAR. [ACT IV

Thou must be patient ; we came crying hither.
Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air,
We wawl, and cry. — I will preach to thee ; mark me.

Glo. Alack, alack the day !

Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come

To this great stage of fools. This a good block ? 1

It were a delicate stratagem to shoe
A troop of horse with felt. I'll put it in proof;
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.2

Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants.

Gent. O, here he is ; lay hand upon him. — Sir,
Your most dear daughter

Lear. No rescue P What, a prisoner ? I am even
The natural fool of fortune. — Use me well ;
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon ;
I am cut to the brains.

Gent. You shall have any thing.

Lear. No seconds ? All myself ?
Why, this would make a man, a man of salt,3
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
Ay, and for laying autumn's dust.

Gent. Good sir, —

Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What ?
I will be jovial ; come, come ; I am a king,
My masters, know you that !

Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you.

Lear. Then there's life in it.4 Nay, an you get it,
you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.5

[Exit, running ; Attendantsyb//ow.

1 Upon the king's saying " I will preach to thee," the Poet seems to
have meant him to pull off his hat, and keep turning it, and feelino- it, till
the idea of felt which the good hat or block was made of, raises the strat
agem in his brain of shoeing a troop of horse with the [same substance]
which he held and moulded between his hands.

2 This was the cry formerly in the English army when an onset was
made on the enemy.

3 " A man of salt " is a man of tears.

4 The case is not yet desperate.

•• Mr. Boswell thinks that this passage seems to prove that sessa means
the very reverse of cesscz.

SC. VI.] KING LEAR. 109

Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ;
Past speaking of in a king ! — Thou hast one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.

Edg. Hail, gentle sir.

Gent. Sir, speed you ; what's your will ?

Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward ?

Gent. Most sure and vulgar ; every one hears that,
Which can distinguish sound.

Edg. But, by your favor,

How near's the other army ?

Gent. Near, and on speedy foot; the main descry
Stands on the hourly thought.1

Edg. I thank you, sir; that's all.

Gent. Though that the queen on special cause is

here.
Her army is moved on.

Edg. I thank you, sir. [Exit Gent.

Glo. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me ;
Let not my worser spirit2 tempt me again
To die before you please !

Edg. Well pray you, father.

Glo. Now, good sir, what are you ?

Edg. A most poor man, made lame by fortune's

blows : 3

Who, by the art of known and feeling4 sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I'll lead you to some biding.

Glo. Hearty thanks.

The bounty and the benison of Heaven
To boot, and boot !

1 The main body is expected to be descried every hour.

2 By this expression may be meant "my evil gmius."

3 The folio reads, " made tame by fortune's blows." The original is
probably the true reading. So in Shakspeare's thirty-seventh Sonnet : —

" So 1, made tame by fortune's dearest spight."

4 Fitting is probably used here forfeit.

110 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

Enter Steward.

Stew. A proclaimed prize ! Most happy !

That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh
To raise my fortunes. — Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember.1 — The sword is out
That must destroy thee.

Glo. Now let thy friendly hand

Put strength enough to it. [EDGAR opposes.

Stew. Wherefore, bold peasant,

Dar'st thou support a published traitor? Hence;
Lest that the infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

Edg. Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion.

Stew. Let go, slave, or thou diest.

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait,2 and let poor
volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been zwaggered out of rny
life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight.
Nay, come not near the old man ; keep out, die vor'ye,3
or ise try whether your costard 4 or my bat be the
harder. Ch'ill be plain with you.

Stew. Out. dunghill !

Edg. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir; come; no matter
vor your foins.5

[They fight ; and EDGAR knocks him down.

Stew. Slave, thou hast slain me. — Villain, take my

purse ;

If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body ;
And give the letters, which thou find'st about me,
To Edmund earl of Gloster ; seek him out
Upon the British party. — O, untimely death. [Dies.

Edg. I know thee well ; a serviceable villain ;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As badness would desire.

1 i. o. "quickly recollect the past offences of thy life, and recommend
thyself to Heaven."
a Gang your gait is a common expression in the north.

3 i. e. / warn you.

4 i. e. head. A bat is a staff. It is the proper name of a walking-stick,
in Sussex, even at this day.

5 i. e. thrusts.

SC. VI.] KING LEAR. 11 J

Glo. What, is he dead ?

Edg. Sit you down, father ; rest you. —
Let's see his pockets ; these letters, that he speaks of,
May be my friends. — He's dead ; I am only sorry
He had no other deathsman. — Let us see :
Leave, gentle wax ; and, manners, blame us not ;
To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts ;
Their papers, is more lawful.1

[Reads.] Let our reciprocal vows be remembered.
You have many opportunities to cut him off ; if your
will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered.
There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror.
Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my jail ; from
the loathed warmth whereof, deliver me, and supply the
place for your labor.

Your wife, (so I would say,) and your
affectionate servant,

GONERIL.

O undistinguished space of woman's will !2 —

A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ;

And the exchange, my brother ! — Here, in the sands,

Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified 3

Of murderous lechers ; and, in the mature time,

With this ungracious paper strike the sight

Of the death-practised duke :4 for him 'tis well,

That of thy death and business I can tell.

[Exit EDGAR, dragging out the body.
• Glo. The king is mad. How stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling5
Of my huge sorrows ! Better I were distract ;

1 i. e. to rip their papers is more lawful.

2 This seems to mean, " O, how inordinate, how unbounded, is the
licentious inclination of women ! "

3 " Thee I'll rake -up, the post unsandified" &c.

i. e. I'll cover thee. Unsanctified refers to his want of burial in conse
crated ground.

4 That is, the duke of Albany, whose death is machinated by practice
or treason.

5 " Ingenious feeling." Bullokar, in his Expositor, interprets ingenious
by quick-conceited, i. e. acute.

112 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs ;
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose

The knowledge of themselves.

Re-enter EDGAR.

Edg. Give me your hand ;

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. A Tent in the French Camp. LEAR
on a bed asleep: Physician, Gentleman,1 and others
attending.

Enter CORDELIA and KENT.

Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live, and work,
To match thy goodness ? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.

Kent. To be acknowledged, madam, is overpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth ;
Nor more, nor clipped, but so.

Cor. Be better suited.^

These weeds are memories3 of those worser hours;
I pr'ythee, put them off.

Kent. Pardon me, dear madam ;

Yet to be known, shortens my made intent.4
My boon I make it, that you know me not,
Till time and I think meet.

Cor. Then be it so, my good lord. — How does the
king ? [To the Physician.

Plnjs. Madam, sleeps still.

Cor. O you kind gods,

Cure this great breach in his abused nature !

1 In the folio, the gentleman and the physician are one and the same
person.

2 i. e. be better dressed, put on a better suit of clothes.

3 Memories are memorials.

4 A MADE intent is an INTENT

SC. VII.] KING LEAR. 113

The untuned and jarring sense?, O, wind up,
Of this child-changed father ! 1

Phys. So please your majesty,

That we may wake the king ? he hath slept long.

Cor. Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed
P the sway of your own will. Is he arrayed ?

Gent. Ay, madam ; in the heaviness of his sleep,
We put fresh garments on him.

Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him ;
I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor. Very well.

Phys. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music
there.2

Cor. O my dear father ! Restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips ; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made !

Kent. Kind and dear princess !

Cor. Had you not been their father, these white*

flakes

Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
To be exposed against the warring winds ?
[To stand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning ? to watch (poor perdu !)
With this thin helm?3] Mine enemy's dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire ; and wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw ? Alack, alack !

1 That is, changed by his children ; a father whose jarring senses have
been untuned by the ingratitude of his daughters.

2 This and the foregoing speech are not in the folio. It has been
alroady observed, that Shakspeare considered soft music as favorable to
sleep. Lear, we may suppose, had been thus composed to rest ; and
now the physician desires louder music to be played, for the purpose of
waking him.

3 The lines in crotchets are not in the folio. The allusion is to the
forlorn hope of an army, called in French enfans perdus ; amongst other
desperate adventures in which they were engaged, the night-watches
seem to have been a common one.

VOL. VII. 15

1 1 4 KING LEAR. [ACT IV.

'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once

Had not concluded all.1 — He wakes; speak to him.

Phys. Madam, do you ; 'tis fittest.

Cor. How does my royal lord ? How fares your
majesty ?

Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o'the

grave.—

Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.

Cor. Sir, do you know me ?

Lear. You are a spirit, I know ; when did you die ?

Cor. Still, still, far wide !

Phys. He's scarce awake ; let him alone awhile.

Lear. Where have I been ? Where am I ? — Fair

daylight ?

I am mightily abused.2 — I should even die with pity,
To see another thus. — J know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands : — let's see ; —
I feel this pin prick. 'Would I were assured
Of my condition.

Cor. O, look upon me, sir,

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me.
No, sir, you must not kneel.

Lear. Pray, do not mock me.

I am a very foolish, fond old man,
Fourscore and upward ;3 and, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know7 this man :
Yet I am doubtful ; for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me ;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be mv child Cordelia.

1 i. e. had not all ended.

~ I am strangely imposed upon by appearances ; I am in a strange
mist of uncertainty.

3 The folio here adds the words "not an hour more or less ; " which
have been regarded as the interpolation of some player.

SC. VII,] KING LEAR. 115

Cor. And so I am, I am.

Lear. Be jour tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray,

weep not ;

If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me ; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have some cause; they have not.

Cor. No cause, no cause.

Lear. Am I in France ?

Kent. In your own kingdom, sir,

Lear. Do not abuse me.

Phys. Be comforted, good madam. The great rage,
You see, is killed in him ; [and yet it is danger
To make him even 1 o'er the time he has lost.]
Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more,
Till further settling.

Cor. Will't please your highness walk ?

Lear. You must bear with me ;

'Pray you now, forget and forgive ; I am old and foolish.
[Exeunt LEAR, CORDELIA, Physician, and
Attendants.

[Gent. Holds it true, sir,
That the duke of Cornwall was so slain ?

Kent. Most certain, sir.

Gent. Who is conductor of his people ?

Kent. As 'tis said,

The bastard son of Gloster.

Gent. They say, Edgar,

His banished son, is with the earl of Kent
In Germany.

Kent. Report is changeable.

'Tis time to look about ; the powers o' the kingdom
Approach apace.

Gent. The arbitrement is like to be a bloody.
Fare you well, sir. [Exit.

1 " To make him even o'er the time he has lost,"

is to make the occurrences of it plain or level to his troubled mind. See
Baret's Alvearie, 1573, E. 307.

116 KING LEAR. [ACT V.

Kent. My point and period will be thoroughly

wrought,
Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought.1] [Exit.

ACT V.
SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces, near

over.

Enter, with drums and colors, EDMUND, REGAN, Offi
cers, Soldiers, and others.

Edm. Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold ;
Or, whether since he is advised by aught
To change the course. He's full of alteration,
And self-reproving ; — bring his constant pleasure.2

[To an Officer, who goes out.

Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried.

Edm. "Tis to be doubted, madam.

Reg. Now, sweet lord,

You know the goodness I intend upon you.
Tell me, — but truly, — but then speak the truth,
Do you not love my sister ?

Edm. In honored love.

[Reg. But have you never found my brother's way
To the forefended 3 place ?

Edm. That thought abuses 4 you.

Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
And bosomed with her, as far as we call hers.

Edm. No, by mine honor, madam.]

1 What is printed in crotchets here and above, is not in the folio.

2 i. e. his settled resolution.

3 The first and last of these speeches within crotchets arc inserted in
Hanmer's, Theobald's, and Warburton's editions ; the two intermediate
ones, which were omitted in all others, are restored from the 4to. Ki08.

4 Imposes on you ; you are deceived.

SC. I] KING LEAR. 117

Reg. I never shall endure her. Dear my lord,
Be not familiar with her.

Edm. Fear me not ; —
She. and the duke her husband,

Eater ALBANY, GONERIL, and Soldier.

Gon. I had rather lose the battle, than that sister
Should loosen him and me. [Aside.

Alb. Our very loving sister, well be met. —
Sir, this I hear, — The king is come to his daughter,
With others, whom the rigor of our state
Forced to cry out. [Where I could not be honest,
I never yet was valiant. For this business,
It toucheth us as France invades our land,
Not bolds1 the king; with others, whom, I fear,
More just and heavy causes make oppose.

Edm. Sir, you speak nobly.]

Reg. Why is this reasoned ?

Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy:
For these domestic and particular broils 2
Are not to question here.

Alb. Let us then determine

With the ancient of war on our proceedings.

Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent.3

Reg. Sister, you'll go with us?

Gon. No.

Reg. 'Tis most convenient ; 'pray you, go with us.

Gon. O, ho, I know the riddle. [Aside.] I will go.

As they are going out, enter EDGAR, disguised.

Edg. If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor,
Hear me one word.

1 "This business (says Albany) touches us, as France invades our
land, not as it emboldens or encourages the king to assert his former title."
There are several examples of this use of the verb bold in old writers.

2 The quartos have it : —

" For these domestic doore particulars."
The folio reads in the subsequent line : —

" Are not the question here."

3 This speech, and the lines above in brackets, are wanting in the folio.

118 KING LEAR. [ACT V

Alb. Ill overtake you. — Speak

[Exeunt EDMUND, REGAN, GONERIL, Officers,
Soldiers, and Attendants.

Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
For him that brought it ; wretched though I seem,
I can produce a champion, that will prove
What is avouched there. If you miscarry,
Your business of the world hath so an end,
And machination ceases.1 Fortune love you !

Alb. Stay till I have read the letter.

Edg. I was forbid it.

When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,
And I'll appear again. [Exit.

Alb. Why, fare thee well ; I will overlook thy paper.

Re-enter EDMUND.

Edm. The enemy's in view ; draw up your powers :
Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
By diligent discovery ; 2 — but your haste
Is now urged on you.

Alb. We will greet the time.3 [Exit.

Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my love ;
Each jealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take ?
Both! one? or neither? Neither can be enjoyed,
If both remain alive. To take the widow,
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril ;
And hardly shall I carry out my side,4
Her husband being alive. Now, then, we'll use
His countenance for the battle ; which being done,
Let her, who would be rid of him, devise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy

1 i. c. all designs against your life will have an end. These words are
not in the quartos.

2 i. e. the conjecture, or what we can gather by diligent espial, of their
strength.

3 i. e. be ready to meet the occasion.

4 Hardly shall I be able to make my side (i. e. my party] good ; to
maintain the game. It was a phrase commonly used at cards.

SC. II.] KING LEAR. 119

Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia, —

The battle done, and they within our power,

Shall never see his pardon ; for my state

Stands on rne to defend, not to debate,, [Exit.

SCENE II. A Field between the two Camps.

Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colors, LEAR,
CORDELIA, and their Forces ; and exeunt.

Enter EDGAR and GLOSTER.1

Edg. Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
For your good host; pray that the right may thrive.
If ever I return to you again,
I'll bring you comfort.

Glo. Grace go with you, sir !

[Exit EDGAR.

Alarums; afterwards a retreat. Re-enter EDGAR.

Edg. Away, old man, give me thy hand, away ;
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en.
Give me thy hand ; come on.

Glo. No further, sir ; a man may rot even here.

Edg. What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must en
dure

Their going hence, even as their coming hither ;
Ripeness is all.2 Come on.

Glo. And that's true too.

[Exeunt.

1 Those who are curious to know how far Shakspeare was indebted to
the Arcadia, will find a chapter entitled « The Pitifull State and Storie
~>f the Paphlagonian unkinde King, and his kinde Sonne ; first re
lated by the Sonne, then by the blinde Father," at p. 141, of the edition of
1590, 4to.

2 i. e. to be ready, prepared, is all.

120 KING LEAR. [ACT V

SCENE III. The British Camp near Dover.

Enter, in conquest, with drum and colors, EDMUND ;
LEAR and CORDELIA, as prisoners; Officers, Sol
diers, &c.

Edm. Some officers take them away ; good guard ;
Until their greater pleasures first be known
That are to censure l them.

Cor. We are not the first,

Who, with best meaning, have incurred the worst.2
For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down ;
Myself could else outfrown false fortune's frown.
Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters ?

Lear. No, no, no, no ! Come, let's away to prison :
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage.
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down.
And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too?
Who loses, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; —
And take upon us the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies.3 And we'll wear out,
In a walled prison, packs and sects 4 of great ones.
That ebb and flow by the moon.

Edm. Take them away.

Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught

thee ?

He that parts us, shall bring a brand from heaven,
And fire us hence, like foxes.5 Wipe thine eyes ;

1 i. e. to pass sentence or judgment on them.

2 That is, " the worst that fortune can inflict."

3 " As if we were angels, endowed with the power of prying into thB
original motives of action, and the mysteries of conduct."

4 Packs and sects are combinations and parties.

5 Alluding to the old practice of smoking foxes out of their holes.

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 121

The goujeers shall devour them, flesh and fell,1

Ere they shall make us weep ; we'll see them starve

first.
Come. [Exeunt LEAR and CORDELIA, guarded.

Edm. Come hither, captain ; hark.
Take thou this note ; 2 [Giving a paper. ~\ go, follow them

to prison.

One step I have advanced thee ; if thou dost
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
To noble fortunes. Know thou this, — that men
Are as the time is: to be tender-minded
Does not become a sword. — Thy great employment
Will not bear question ; 3 either say, thou'lt do't,
Or thrive by other means.

Off. I'll do't, my lord.

Edm. About it ; and write happy, when thou hast

done.

Mark, — I say instantly ; and carry it so,
As I have set it down.

Off. I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats ;
If it be man's work, I will do it. [Exit Officer.

Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, Officers,
and Attendants.

Alb. Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain,
And fortune led you well. You have the captives,
Who were the opposites of this day's strife.
We do require them of you ; so to use them,
As we shall find their merits and our safety
May equally determine.

Edm. Sir, I thought it fit

To send the old and miserable king
To some retention, and appointed guard ;

1 "The goujeers shall devour them,j?es/i and/eW."

The goujeers, i. e. morbus Gallicus. The quartos have good yeares, the
common corruption in Shakspeare's time. Flesh and fell is Jlesh and
skin.

2 This was a warrant signed by the bastard and Goneril, for the exe
cution of Lear and Cordelia, referred to in a subsequent scene by Edmund.

3 i. e. admit of debate.

VOL. VII. 16

122 KING LEAR. [ACT V.

Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,

To pluck the common bosom on his side,

And turn our impressed lances l in our eyes

Which do command them. With him I sent the queen;

My reason all the same ; and they are ready

To-morrow, or at further space, to appear

Where you shall hold your session. [At this time

We sweat and bleed ; the friend hath lost his friend ;

And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed

By those that feel their sharpness. —

The question of Cordelia, and her father,

Requires a fitter place.2]

Alb. Sir, by your patience,

I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother.

Reg. That's as we list to grace him.

Mcthinks our pleasure might have been demanded,
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers ;
Bore the commission 3 of my place and person ;
The which immediacy 4 may well stand up,
And call itself your brother.

Gon. Not so hot :

In his own grace 5 he doth exalt himself,
More than in your advancement.

Reg. In my rights,

By me invested, he compeers the best.

Gon. That were the most, if he should husband
you.6

Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets.

Gon. Holla, holla !

That eye that told you so looked but asquint.'

7

1 That is, the laneemen we have hired by giving them press-money.

2 i. e. the determination of what shall he done with Cordelia and her
father should be reserved for greater privacy. This is not in the folio.

3 Commission for autJiority.

4 Immediacy, s;iys Malone, is close and immediate connection with me,
and direct authority from me. Immediate is the reading of the quartos.

5 Grace here means noble deportment The folio has addition, instead
of advancement, in the next line.

6 "If he were married to you, you could not say more than this, nor
could he enjoy greater power." In the folio this line is given to Albany.

7 Alluding to the proverb, " Love, being jealous, makes a good eye
look asquint"

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 123

Reg. Lady, I am not well ; else I should answer
From a full-flowing stomach. — General,
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony ;
Dispose of them, of me ; the walls are thine.1
Witness the world, that I create thee here
My lord and master.

Gon. Mean you to enjoy him ?

Alb. The let-alone lies not in your good will.2

Edm. Nor in thine, lord.

Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes.

Reg. Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.3

[To EDMUND.

Alb. Stay yet ; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee
On capital treason ; and, in thine, attaint 4
This gilded serpent. [Pointing to GON.] — For your

claim, fair sister,

I bar it in the interest of my wife ;
'Tis she is subcontracted to this lord,
And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
If you will marry, make your love to me,
My lady is bespoke.

Gon. An interlude !

Alb. Thou art armed, Gloster. — Let the trumpet

sound ;

If none appear to prove upon thy person,
Thy heinous, manifest, a»d many treasons,
There is my pledge ; [Throwing down a glove ;] I'll

prove it on thy heart,
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
Then I have here proclaimed thee.

Reg. Sick, O, sick !

Gon. If not, I'll ne'er trust poison. [Aside.

Edm. There's my exchange. [Throwing down a
glove.] What in the world he is

1 A metaphor taken from the camp, and signifying to surrender at dis~
cretion. This line is not in the quartos.

2 " To obstruct their union lies not in your good pleasure."

3 It appears, from this speech, that Regan did not know that Albany
had discharged her forces. This line is given to Edmund in the quartos

4 The folio reads « thy arrest."

124 KING LEAR. [ACT V.

That names me traitor, villain-like he lies.
Call by thy trumpet ; he that dares approach,
On him, on you, (who not ?) I will maintain
My truth and honor firmly.

Alb. A herald, ho !

Edm. A herald, ho, a herald !

Alb. Trust to thy single virtue ; J for thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name
Took their discharge.

Reg. This sickness grows upon me

Enter a Herald.

Alb. She is not well ; convey her to my tent.

[Exit REGAN, led

Come hither, herald. — Let the trumpet sound, —
And read out this.

Off. Sound, trumpet. [A trumpet sounds.

Herald reads.

If any man of quality, or degree, within the lists of
the army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed earl
of Gloster, that he is a manifold traitor, le, him appear
at the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his
defence. •

Edm. Sound. [1 trumpet.

Her. Again. [2 trumpet.

Her. Again. [3 trumpet.

[Trumpet answers within.

Enter EDGAR, armed, preceded by a trumpet.

Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Upon this call o' the trumpet.

Her. What are you?

Your name, your quality ? And why you answer
This present summons ?

1 i. e. valor; a Roman sense of the word.

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 125

Edg. Know, my name is lost ;

By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit.
Yet am I noble as the adversary
I come to cope withal.

Alb. Which is that adversary?

Edg. What's he that speaks for Edmund, earl of
Gloster?

Edm. Himself ; — what say'st thou to him ?

Edg. Draw thy sword ;

That if my speech offend a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice ; here is mine.
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honors,
My oath, and my profession; I protest, —
Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune,
Tiiy valor, and thy heart, — thou art a traitor ;
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father ;
Conspirant 'gainst this high, illustrious prince ;
And, from the extremest upward of thy head,
To the descent and dust beneath thy feet,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No,
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest.

Edm. In wisdom, I should ask thy name ; l
But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue some 'say2 of breeding breathes,
What safe and nicely 3 I might well delay
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn.
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head ;
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart ;
Which, (for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,)
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
Where they shall rest forever.4 — Trumpets, speak.

[Alarums. They fight; EDMUND falls.

1 Because, if his adversary was not of equal rank, Edmund might have
declined the combat.

2 Say, or assay, is a sample, a taste.

3 This seems to mean " What I might safely well delay, if I acted
punctiliously" This line is omitted in the quartos.

4 To that place where they shall rest forever, i. e. thy heart.

126 KING LEAR. [ACT V

Alb. O, save him, save him ! *

Gon. This is mere practice, Gloster

By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite ; thou art not vanquished,
But cozened and beguiled.

Alb. Shut your mouth, dame,

Or with this paper shall I stop it. — Hold, sir;—
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil.
No tearing, lady ; I perceive you know it.

[Gives the letter to EDMUND

Gon. Say, if I do ; the laws are mine, not thine.
Who shall arraign me for't?

Alb. Most monstrous !

Know'st thou this paper?2

Gon. Ask me not what I know.

[Exit GONERIL.

Alb. Go after her ; she's desperate ; govern her.

[To an Officer, who goes out.

Edm. What you have charged me with, that have I

done ;

And more, much more. The time will bring it out;
'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou,
That hast this fortune on me ? If thou art noble,
I do forgive thee.

O

Edg. Let's exchange charity.

I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund ;
If more, the more thou hast wronged me.
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to scourge us.3
The dark and vicious place where thee he got,
Cost him his eyes.

Edm. Thou hast spoken right ; 'tis true ;

The wheel is come full circle : I am here.

1 Albany desires that Edmund's life may be spared at present, only to
obtain his confession, and to convict him openly by his own letter.

2 " Knowest thou these letters ? " says Leir to Regan, in the old anony
mous play, when he shows her both her own and her sister's letters,
which were written to procure his death ; upon which she snatches the
letters and tears them.

3 The folio reads " to plague us."

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 127

Alb. Methought thy very gait did prophesy
A royal nobleness. — I must embrace thee ;
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
Did hate thee, or thy father.

Edg. Worthy prince, I know't

Alb. Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father ?

Edg. By nursing them, my lord. — List a brief

tale ; —

And, when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst !
The bloody proclamation to escape,
That followed me so near, (O, our lives' sweetness !
That we the pain of death would hourly die,1
Rather than die at once !) taught me to shift
Into a madman's rags ; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdained ; and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost ; became his guide,
Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair ;
Never, (O fault !) revealed myself unto him,
Until, some half-hour past, when I was armed,
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
I asked his blessing, and, from first to last,
Told him my pilgrimage. But his flawed heart,
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support !)
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.

Edm. This speech of yours hath moved me,

And shall, perchance, do good. But speak you on ;
You look as you had something more to say.

Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in ;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.

2 [Edg. This would have seemed a period

To such as love not sorrow ; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more,

1 The quartos read : —

" That with the pain of death would hourly die/*

2 The lines within crotchets are not in the folio.

128 KING LEAR. [ACT V.

And top extremity.1

Whilst I was big in clamor, came there a man,
Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
Shunned my abhorred society; but then finding
Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms
He fastened on my neck, and bellowed out
As he'd burst heaven ; threw him 2 on my father ;
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him,
That ever ear received ; which in recounting
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack. Twice then the trumpet sounded,
And there I left him tranced.

Alb. But who was this ?

Edg. Kent, sir, the banished Kent ; who in disguise
Followed his enemy king, and did him service
Improper for a slave.]

Enter a Gentleman, hastily, with a bloody knife.

Gent. Help ! help ! O, help !

Edg. What kind of help ?

Alb. Speak, man.

Edg. What means that bloody knife ?

Gent. 'Tis hot, it smokes ;

It came even from the heart of

Alb. Who, man ? speak.

1 Of this difficult passage, which is probably corrupt, Stcevens gives
the following explanation : — " This would have seemed a period to such
as love not sorrow, but — another, i. e. but I must add another, i. e. another
period, another kind of conclusion to my story, such as will increase
the horrors of what has been already told." It will be necessary, if we
admit this interpretation, to point the passage thus : —

1 — — but another : —

(To amplify too much, would make much more,
And top extremity,)
Whilst I was big," &c.

Malone's explanation is: — "This would have seemed the utmost comple
tion of woe, to such as do not delight in sorrow ; but another, of a different
disposition, to amplify misery ' would give more strength to that which
hath too much;'" referring to the bastard's desiring to hear more, and
to Albany's thinking that enough had been said.

2 The quartos read, "threw me, on my father." The reading in the
text is certainly more likely to be correct.

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 129

Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady ; and her sister
By her is poisoned ; she hath confessed it.1

Edm. I was contracted to them both ; all three
Now marry in an instant.

Alb. Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead ! — •
This judgment of the Heavens, that makes us tremble,
Touches us not with pity. [Exit Gentleman.

Enter KENT.

Edg. Here comes Kent, sir.

Alb. O ! it is he.

The time will not allow the compliment,
Which very manners urges.

Kent. 1 am come

To bid my king and master aye good night ;
Is he not here ?

Alb. Great thing of us forgot ! —

Speak, Edmund, where's the king ? and where's Cor
delia ?—
Seest thou this object, Kent ?

[The bodies of GONERIL and REGAN arc
brought in.

Kent. Alack, why thus ?

Edm. Yet Edmund was beloved.

The one the other poisoned for my sake,
And after slew herself.

Alb. Even so. — Cover their faces.

Edm. I pant for life : — Some good I mean to do,
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send —
Be brief in it — to the castle,, for my writ
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia. —
Nay, send in time.

Alb. Run, run, O, run —

Edg. To whom, my lord ? — Who has the office ? send
Thy token of reprieve.

Edm. Well thought on ; take my sword,
Give it the captain.

i Thus the quarto. The folio reads « she confesses it."

VOL. VII. 17

130 KING LEAR. [ACT V.

Alb. Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit EDGAR.

Edm. He hath commission from thy wife and me
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
To lay the blame upon her own despair,
That she fordid1 herself.

Alb. The gods defend her ! Bear him hence awhile.

[EDMUND is borne off.

Enter LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms;2 EDGAR,
Officer, and others.

Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl ! — O, you are men

of stones ;

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
That heaven's vault should crack. — O, she is gone for
ever ! —

I know when one is dead, arid when one lives ;
She's dead as earth. — Lend me a looking-glass ;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.

Kent. Is this the promised end ? 3

Edg. Or image of that horror ?

Alb. Fall, and cease ! 4

Lear. This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so,
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.

Kent. O my good master ! [Kneeling.

Lear. 'Pr'ythee, away.

Edg. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend.

Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all !

1 To fordo signifies to destroy. It is used again in Hamlet.

2 The old historians say that Cordelia retired with victory from the
battle, which she conducted in her father's cause, and thereby replaced
him on the throne ; but in a subsequent one fought against her (after
the death of the old king), by the sons of Regan and Goneril, she A^as
taken, and died miserably in prison. Geoffrey of Monmouth, the original
relater of the story, says that she killed herself.

3 Kent, in contemplating the scene before him, recollects those passages
of St. Mark's Gospel, in which Christ foretells to his disciples the end of
the world ; and hence his question. To which Edgar adds, Or only a
representation or resemblance of that horror.

4 To cease is to die. " Rather fall, and cease to be at once, than con
tinue in existence only to be wretched."

SO. III.] KING LEAR. 131

I might have saved her ; now she's gone forever !
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha !
What is't thou say'st ? — Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low ; an excellent thing in woman. —
I killed the slave that was a-hanging tliee.

Off. 'Tis true, my lords, he did.

Lear. Did I not, fellow ?

I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion,
I would have made them skip ; I am old now. —
And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are you ?
Mine eyes are none o'the best. — I'll tell you straight.

Kent. If Fortune brag of two she loved and hated,
One of them we behold.1

Lear. This is a dull sight : 2 Are you not Kent ?

Kent. The same ;

Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius ?

Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that ;
He'll strike, and quickly too. — He's dead and rotten.

Kent. No, my good lord, I am the very man ; —

Lear. I'll see that straight.

Kent. That, from your first of difference and decay,
Have followed your sad steps.

Lear. You are welcome hither.

Kent. jNor no man else ; all's cheerless, dark, and

deadly. —

Your eldest daughters have fore-doomed3 themselves,
And desperately are dead.

Lear. Ay, so I think.

Alb. He knows not what he sees ; 4 and vain it is
That we present us to him.

Edg. Very bootless.

1 "If Fortune, to display the plenitude of her power, should brag of
two persons, one of whom she had highly elevated, and the other she had
wofully depressed, we now behold the latter." The quarto reads, " She
loved or hated," which confirms this sense.

2 Lear means that his eyesight was bedimmed either by excess of
grief, or, as is usual, by the approach of death.

3 Thus the quartos: the folio reads foredonc,, which is probably right
See note 1, on page 130.

4 The quarto reads says.

132 KING LEAR. [ACT V.

Enter an Officer.

Off*. Edmund is dead, my lord.

Alb. That's but a trifle here.-

You lords, and noble friends, know our intent.
What comfort to this great decay ! may come,
Shall be applied. For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old majesty,
To him our absolute power. — You, to your rights,

[To EDGAR and KENT.

With boot, and such addition as your honors
Have more than merited.2 — All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings. — O, see, see !

Lear. And my poor fool is hanged ! 3 No, no, no life ;
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all ? O, thou wilt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never ! —
'Pray you, undo this button : 4 thank you, sir. —
Do you see this ? — Look on her, — look, — her lips, —
Look there, look there ! — [He dies.

Edg. He faints ! — My lord, my lord, —

Kent. Break, heart ; I pr'ythee, break !

Edg. Look up, my lord.

Kent. Yex not his ghost : O, let him pass ! he hates

him,

That would upon the rack of this tough world
Stretch him out longer.

Edg. O, he is gone indeed.

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endured so long ;
He but usurped his life.

Alb. Bear them from hence. — Our present business

1 " This great decay" is Lear.

2 These lines are addressed to Kent as well as to Edgar. Hoot is
advantage, increase. By honors is meant honorable conduct.

3 This is an expression of tenderness for his dead Cordelia (not his
fool, as some have thought), on whose lip*; lie is still intent, and dies
while he is searching there for indications of life. " Poor /bo/," in the
age of Shakspenre, was an expression of endearment.

4 The Rev. Dr. J. VVarton judiciously observes, that the swelling and
heaving of the heart is described by this most expressive circumstance.

SC. III.] KING LEAR. 133

Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain

[To KENT and EDGAR.
Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain.

Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go ;
My master calls, and I must not say no.

Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey ;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most ; we, that are young,
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

[Exeunt, with a dead march.

THE tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of
Shakspeare. There is, perhaps, no play which keeps the attention so
strongly fixed; which so much agitates our passions, and interests our
curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking oppo
sitions of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the
quick succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indig
nation, pity, and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to
the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce a line
which does not conduce to the progress of the scene. So powerful is the
current of the Poet's imagination, that the mind, which once ventures
within it, is hurried irresistibly along.

On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, it may be observed,
that he is represented according to histories at that time vulgarly received
as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and
ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will appear not so
unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such prefer
ence of one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such
conditions, would be yet credible if told of a petty prince of Guinea or
Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, by the mention of his earls and dukes,
has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by
softer manners ; and the truth is, that, though he so nice4y discriminates,
and so minutely describes, the characters of men, he commonly neglects
and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and
modern, English and foreign.

My learned friend, Mr. Warton, who has, in The Adventurer, very
minutely criticised this play, remarks, that the instances of cruelty are too
savage and shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys the
simplicity of the story. These objections may, I think, be answered by
repeating that the cruelty of the daughters is an historical fact, to which
the Poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series of dialogue
and action. But I am not able to apologize with equal plausibility for
the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, which seems an act too horrid to be en
dured in dramatic exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to
relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let it be remembered that our
author well knew what would please the audience for Avhich he wrote.

]34 KING LEAR.

The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the action, is abun
dantly recompensed by the addition of variety; by the art with which he
is made to cooperate with the chief design, and the opportunity u hk-h
ht1 Drives the Poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the
wicked son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral,
that villany is never at a stop ; that crimes lead to crimes, and at last
terminate in ruin.

But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakspeare has suffered
the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural
ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more strange,
to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is justified by The Spectator,
who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and happiness in his altera
tion, and declares, that, in his opinion, the. tragedy lias lost half its beauty.
Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to secure the favorable
reception of Cato, the town 'was poisoned with much false and abominable
criticism, and that endeavors had been used to discredit and decry poet
ical justice. A play in which the wicked prosper, and the virtuous mis
carry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of the
common events of human life ; but, since all reasonable beings naturally
love justice, I cannot easily be persuaded that the observation of justice
makes a play worse ; or that, if other excellences are equal, the audience
will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted
virtue.

In the present case, the public has decided. Cordelia, from the time
of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensa
tions could add any thing to the general suffrage, I might relate, I was
many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether
I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to
revise them as an editor.

There is another controversy among the critics concerning thisi play.
It is disputed whether the predominant image in Lear's disordered mind
be the loss of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy,
a very judicious critic, has evinced, by induction of particular passages,
that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary source of his distress, and
that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate
evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would move our com
passion but little, did we not rather consider the injured father than the
degraded king.

The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived,
I think, from Sidney, is taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom
Holinshed generally copied ; but perhaps immediately from an old histor
ical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior to the
ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing
of Shakspeare's nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to have been
omitted, and that it follows the chronicle ; it has the rudiments of the
play, but none of its amplifications; it first hinted Lear's madness, but
did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added some
thing to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if
more had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had

seen Shakspeare.

JOHNSON.

135

KOMEO AND JULIET.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

THE original relater of this story appears to have been Luigi da Porto,
a gentleman of Vicenza, who died in 1529. His novel seems not to have
been printed till some years after his death ; being first published at
Venice, in 1535, under the title of " La Giulietta : " there is, however, a
dateless copy by the same printer. In the dedication to Madonna Lucina
Savorgnana, he tells her, that the story was related to him by one of Ms
archers, named Peregrino, a native of Verona, while serving in Friuli, to
beguile the solitary road that leads from Gradisca to Udine.

Girolamo della Corte, in his History of Verona, relates it circumstan
tially as a true event, occurring in 1303;* but Maffei does not give him
the highest credit as an historian. He carries his history down to the
year 1560, and probably adopted the novel to grace his book. The earlier
annalists of Verona, and, above all, Torello Sarayna, who published, in
1542, "Le Historic e Fatti do Veronesi nell 'Tempi d'il Popolo e Signori
Scaligeri," are entirely silent upon the subject, though some other domes
tic tragedies grace their narrations.

As to the origin of this interesting story, Mr. Douce has observed, that
its material incidents are to be found in the Ephesiacs of Xenophon of
Ephesus, a Greek romance of ths middle ages : he admits, indeed, that
this work was not published nor translated in the time of Luigi da Porto,
but su ggests that he might have seen a copy of the original in manuscript.
Mr. Dunlop, in his History of Fiction, has traced it to the thirty-second
novel of Massuccio Salernitano, whose " Novelino," a collection of tales,
was first printed in 1476. The hero of Massuccio is named Mariotto di
Giannozza, and his catastrophe is different; yet there are sufficient points
of resemblance between the two narratives. Mr. Bos well observes, that

* Captain Breval, in his Travels, tells us that he was shown at Verona what was called
the tomb of these unhappy lovers ; and that, on a strict inquiry into the histories of Verona,
he found that Shakspeare had varied very little from the truth, either in the names, charac
ters, or other circumstances of this play. The fact seems to be, that the invention of the
novelist has been adopted into the popular history of the city, just as cjhakspeare's historical
dramas furnish numbers witi their notions of the event* to which they relate.

136 ROMEO AND JULIET.

u we may, perhaps, carry the fiction back to a much greater antiquity,
and doubts whether, after all, it is not the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe,
enlarged and varied by the luxuriant imagination of the novelist."

The story is also to be found in the second volume of the Novels of
Bandello (Novel ix. ) ; and it is remarkable that he says it was related to
him, when at the baths of Caldera, by the Captain Alexander Peregrino,
a native of Verona ; we may presume, the same person from whom Da
Porto received it, unless this appropriation is to be considered supposi
titious. The story also exists in Italian verse ; and I had once a glance of
a copy of it in that form, but neglected to note the title or date, and had
not time for a more particular examination. It was translated from the
Italian of Bandello into French, by Pierre Boisteau, who varies from his
original in many particulars ; and, from the French, Painter gave a trans
lation in the second volume of his Palace of Pleasure, 1567, which he
entitled Rhomoo and Julietta. From Boisteau's novel, the same story was,
in 1562, formed into an English poem, with considerable alterations and
large additions, by Arthur Brooke : this poem the curious reader will find
reprinted entire in the variorum editions of Shakspeare. It was originally
printed by Richard Tottcl, with the following title : — " The Tragicall
Hystorye of Romeus and Juliet, written first in Italian, by Bandell ; and
nowe in English, by Ar. Br." Upon this piece Malone has shown, by
unequivocal testimony, that the play was formed. Numerous circum
stances are introduced from the poem, which the novelist would not have
supplied ; and even the identity of expression, which not unfrequently
occurs, is sufficient to settle the question. Steevcns, without expressly
controverting the fact, endeavored to throw a doubt upon it by his repeat
ed quotations from the Palace of Pleasure. In two passages, it is true,
he has quoted Painter, where Brooke is silent; but very little weight be
longs to either of them. In one, there is very little resemblance ; and in
the other, the circumstance might be inferred from the poem, though not
exactly specified. The poem of Arthur Brooke was republished in 1587
with the title thus amplified : — " Containing a rare Example of true Con-
stancic : with tho subtil! Counsells and Practices of an old Fryer, and
their ill Event."

In the preface to Arthur Brooke's poem there is a very curious passage,
in which he says, "I saw the same argument lately set foorth on stage
with more commendation then I can looke for, (being there much hotter
set forth then I have or can dooe.)" He has not, however, stated in what
country this play was represented : the rude state of our drama, prior
to 1562, renders it improbable that it was in England. '; Yet (says Mr.
Boswell) I cannot but be of opinion that Romeo and Juliet may be added
to the list, already numerous, of plays in which our great Poet has had a
dramatic precursor, and that some slight remains of the old play are still
10 be traced in the earliest quarto."

PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 137

" The story has at all times been eminently popular in all parts of
Europe. A Spanish play was formed on it by Lope de Vega, entitled
Los Castelvies y Monteses ; and another in the same language, by Don
Francisco de Roxas, under the name of Los Vandos de Verona. In
Italy, as may well be supposed, it has not been neglected. The modern
productions on this subject are too numerous to be specified ; but, as
early as 1578, Luigi Groto produced a drama upon the subject, called
Hadriana, of which an analysis may be found in Mr. Walker's Memoir
on Italian Tragedy. Groto has stated, in his prologue, that the story is
drawn from the ancient history of Adria, his native place;" so that
Verona is not the only place that has appropriated this interesting fable.
This has been generally considered one of Shakspeare's earliest
plays ;* and Schlegel has eloquently said, that " it shines with the colors
of the dawn of morning ; but a dawn whose purple clouds already an
nounce the thunder of a sultry day." "Romeo and Juliet (says the
same admirable critic) is a picture of love and its pitiable fate, in a
world whose atmosphere is too rough for this tenderest blossom of
human life. Two beings, created for each other, feel mutual love at
tirst glance : every consideration disappears before the irresistible in
fluence of living in one another ; they join themselves secretly, under
circumstances hostile in the highest degree to their union, relying
merely on the protection of an invisible power. By unfriendly events
following blow upon blow, their heroic constancy is exposed to all manner
of trials ; till, forcibly separated from each other, by a voluntary death
they are united in the grave, to meet again in another world. All this is
to be found in the beautiful story, which Shakspeare has not invented ;
and which, however simply told, will always excite a tender sympathy :
but it was reserved for Shakspeare to unite purity of heart and the glow
of imagination, sweetness and dignity of manners and passionate vio
lence, in one ideal picture. By the manner in which he has handled it,
it has become a glorious song of praise on that inexpressible feeling
which ennobles the soul, and gives to it its highest sublimity, and which
elevates even the senses themselves into soul ; and at the same time is a
melancholy elegy on its frailty from its own nature and external circum
stances ; at once the deification and the burial of love. It appears here
like a heavenly spark, that, descending to the earth, is converted into a
flash of lightning, by which mortal creatures are almost in the same

* Malone thinks that the foundation of the play might be laid in 1591, and finished in
1596. Mr. George Chalmers places the date of its composition in the spring of 1592. And
Dr. Drake, with greater probability, ascribes it to 1593. There are four early quarto editions,
in 1597, 1599, 1609, and one without a date. The first edition is less ample than those
which succeed. Shakspeare appears to have revised the play ; but in the succeeding im
pressions no fresh incilents are introduced ; the alterations are merely additions to the length
of particular speeches and scenes. The principal variations are pointed out in the notes.

VOL. VII. 18

138 ROMEO AND JULIET.

moment set on fire and consumed. Whatever is most intoxicating in
the odor of a southern spring, languishing in the song of the nightin
gale, or voluptuous in the first opening of the rose, is to be found in this
poem. But, even more rapidly than the earliest blossoms of youth and
beauty decay, it hurries on from the first timidly-bold declaration of love
and modest return, to the most unlimited passion, to an irrevocable
union ; then, amidst alternating storms of rapture and despair, to the
death of the two lovers, who still appear enviable, as their love survives
them, and as by their death they have obtained a triumph over every
separating power. The sweetest and the bitterest, love and hatred,
festivity and dark forebodings, tender embraces and sepulchres, the
fulness of life and self-annihilation, are all here brought close to each
other ; and all these contrasts are so blended, in the harmonious and
wonderful work, into a unity of impression, that the echo, which the
whole leaves behind in the mind, resembles a single but endless sigh.

"The excellent dramatic arrangement, the signification of each char
acter in its place, the judicious selection of all the circumstances, even
the most minute," have been pointed out by Schlegel in a dissertation
referred to in a note at the end of the play ; in which he remarks, that
" there can be nothing more diffuse, more wearisome, than the rhyming
history, which Shakspeare's genius, ' like richest alchymy,' has changed
to beauty and to worthiness." Nothing but the delight of seeing into
this wonderful metamorphosis, can compensate for the laborious task of
reading through more than three thousand six and seven-footed iambics,
which, in respect of every thing that amuses, affects, and enraptures us
in this play, are as a mere blank leaf. — Here all interest is entirely
smothered under the coarse, heavy pretensions of an elaborate exposition.
How much Avas to be cleared away, before life could be breathed into
the shapeless mass ! In many parts, what is here given, bears the same
relation to what Shakspeare has made out of it, which any common de
scription of a thing bears to the thing itself. Thus, out of the following
hint —

" A courtier, that eche-where was highly had in pryce,
For he was courteous of his speche and pleasant of devise:
Even as a lyon would emong the lambes be bolde,
Such was emonge the bashfull maydes Mercutio to beholde;"

and the addition that the said Mercutio from his swathing-bands con
stantly had cold hands, — has arisen a splendid character decked out
with the utmost profusion of wit. Not to mention a number of nicer
deviations from the original, we find also some important incidents ;
for instance, the meeting and the combat between Paris and Romeo at
Juliet's grave. — Shakspeare knew how to transform by enchantment,
letters into spirit, a workman's daub into a poetical masterpiece.

PROLOGUE. 139

"Lessing declared Romeo and Juliet to be the only tragedy, that he
knew, which Love himself had assisted to compose. I know not (says
Schlegel) how to end more gracefully than with these simple words,
wherein so much lies : — One may call this poem a harmonious miracle,
whose component parts that heavenly power alone could so melt together.
It is at the same time enchantingly sweet and sorrowful, pure and glow
ing, gentle and impetuous, full of elegiac softness, and tragically over
powering."

PROLOGUE.

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life ;
Whose misadventured, piteous overthrows

Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-marked love,

And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage ;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

140

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

ESCALUS, Prince of Verona.

PARIS, a young Nobleman, Kinsman to the Prince.

MONTAGUE, ) jjeacis Of TWO Houses, at variance with each other

CAPULET, )

An old Man, Uncle to Capulet.

ROMEO, Son to Montague.

MERCUTIO, Kinsman to the Prince, and Friend to Romeo.

BEXVOLIO, Nephew to Montague, and Friend to Romeo.

TYBALT, Nephew to Lady Capulet.

FRIAR LAURENCE, a Franciscan.

FRIAR JOHN, of the same Order.

BALTHAZAR, Servant to Romeo.

SAMPSON,

ABRAM, Servant to Montague.

An Apothecary.

Three Musicians.

Chorus. Boy, Page to Paris. PETER.

An Officer.

LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Montague.
LADY CAPULET, Wife to Capulet.
JULIET, Daughter to Capulet.
Nurse to Juliet.

Citizens of Verona ; several Men and Women, Relations to both
Houses ; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.

SCENE, during the greater part of the Play, in Verona ; once, in
the Fifth Act, at Mantua.

141

ROMEO AND JULIET.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A public Place.

Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with swords
and bucklers.

Sampson. GREGORY, o'my word, we'll not carry
coals.1

Gre. No, for then we should be colliers.

Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the
collar.

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.

Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

Gre. To move, is — to stir ; and to be valiant, is —
to stand to it. Therefore, if thou art moved, thou
run'st away.

Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand ;
I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

Gre. That shows thee a weak slave ; for the
weakest goes to the wall.

Sam. True ; and therefore women, being the weaker

1 To carry coals is to put up urith insults, to submit to any degradation.
Anciently, in great families, the scullions, turnspits, and carriers of wood
and coals, were esteeemed the very lowest of menials, the drudges of all
the rest. Such attendants upon the royal household, in progresses, were
called the black-guard ; and hence the origin of that term.

142 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I.

vessels, are ever thrust to the wall ; — therefore I will
push Montague's' men from the wall, and thrust his
maids to the wall.

Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us
their men.

Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant :
when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel
with the maids ; I will cut off their heads.

Gre. The heads of the maids ?

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maiden
heads ; take it in what sense thou wilt.

Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it.

Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand ;
and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Gre. 'Tis well thou art not fish ; if thou hadst,
thou hadst been poor John.1 Draw thy tool ; here
comes two of the house of the Montagues.2

o

Enter ABRAM and BALTHAZAR.

Sam. My naked weapon is out ; quarrel, I will back
thee.

Gre. How ? turn thy back, and run ?

Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry ; I fear thee !

Sam. Let us take the law of our sides ; let them
begin.

Gre. I will frown, as I pass by ; and let them take
it as they list.

Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb3 at
them ; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

1 Poor John is hake, dried and salted.

2 It should be observed that the partisans of the Montague family wore
a token in their hats, in order to distinguish them from their enemies, the
Capulets. Hence, throughout this play, they are known at a distance.

3 This mode of insult, in order to begin a quarrel, seems to have been
common in Shakspeare's time. It is not unusual with the Italians at the
present day. The manner in which this contemptuous action was per
formed, is thus described by Cotgrave, in a passage which has escaped
the industry of all the commentators: — "Faire la nique : to rnocke by
nodding or lifting up of the chinne ; or more properly, to threaten or defie,
by putting the thumbe naile into the mouth, and with a jerke (from the
upper teeth) make it to knacke."

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 143

Abr. Do you bite jour thumb at us, sir ?

Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say — ay ?

Ore. No.

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir ;
but I bite my thumb, sir.

Ore. Do you quarrel, sir ?

Abr. Quarrel, sir ? no, sir.

Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as good
a man as you.

Abr. No better.

Sam. Well, sir.

Enter BENVOLIO, at a distance.

Gre. Say — better ; here comes one of my master's
kinsmen.1

Sam. Yes, better, sir.

Abr. You lie.

Sam. Draw, if you be men. — Gregory, remember
thy swashing2 blow. [They fight.

Ben. Part, fools ; put up your swords ; you know
not what you do. ( [Beats down their swords.

Enter TYBALT.

Tyb What, art thou drawn among these heartless

hinds ?
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

Ben. I do but keep the peace ; put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.

Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace ? I hate the

word,

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Have at thee, coward. [They fight.

1 Gregory is a servant of the Capulets; he must therefore mean
Tybalt, who enters immediately after Benvolio.

2 i. e. swaggering or dashing.

144 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I.

Enter several partisans of both houses, who join the
fray; -then enter Citizens, with clubs.

\ Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans ! strike ! beat them

down !
Down with the Capulets ! down with the Montagues !

Enter CAPULET, in his gown ; and LADY CAPULET.

Cap. What noise is this ? — Give me my long-
sword,1 ho !

La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch! — Why call you for a
sword ?

Cap. My sword, I say ! — Old Montague is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE.

Mon. Thou villain Capulet, — hold me not, let me

go.
La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

Enter Prince, with Attendants.

Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel, —
Will they not hear ?— What, ho ! you men, you beasts, —
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistempered 2 weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince. —
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,

1 The long sword was the weapon used in active warfare ; a lighter
weapon was worn for ornament.

2 i. e. angry.

SC. 1.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 145

To wield old partisans, in hands as old,

Cankered with peace, to part your cankered hate.

If ever you disturb our streets again,

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

For this time, all the rest depart away.

You, Capulet, shall go along with me ;

And, Montague, come you this afternoon,

To know our further pleasure in this case,

To old Free-town,1 our common judgment-place.

Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants ; CAPULET,
LA. CAP., TYBALT, Citizens, and Servants

Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach ?
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began ?

Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach.
I drew to part them ; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared ;
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hissed him in scorn.
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the prince came, who parted either part.

La. Mon. O, where is Romeo ? — saw you him

to-day ?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun*
Peered forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad ;
Where, — underneath the grove of sycamore,
That westward rooteth from the city's side, —
So early walking did I see your son.
Towards him I made ; but lie was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood.
I, measuring his affections by my own, —
That most are busied when they are most alone, —

i The Poet found the name of this place in Brooke's Tragicall History
of Romeus and Juliet, 1562. It is there said to be the castle of the
Capulets.

VOL. VII. 19

146 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT L

Pursued my humor, not pursuing his,

And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.

Man. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,
And makes himself an artificial night.
Black and portentous must this humor prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ?

Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.

Ben. Have you importuned him by any means ?

Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends ;
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself — I will not say, how true —
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.1
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Enter ROMEO, at a distance.

Ben. See, where he conies. So please you, step

aside ;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

Mon. \ would thou wert so happy by thy stay.
To hear true shrift. — Come, madam, let's away.

[Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady.

1 The old copy reads: —

" Or dedicate his beauty to the same."

The emendation is by Theobald ; who states, with plausibility, that sunne
might easily be mistaken for sa»if

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 147

Ben. Good morrow, cousin.

Rom. Is the day so young i1

Ben. But new struck nine.

Rom. Ah me ! sad hours seem long.

Was that my father that went hence so fast ?

Ben. It was. — What sadness lengthens Romeo's
hours ?

Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them
short.

Ben. In love ?

Rom. Out —

Ben. Of love ?

Rom. Out of her favor, where I am in love.

Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will ! l
Where shall we dine ? — O me ! — What fray was here ?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why then, O brawling love ! O loving hate! 2
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness ! serious vanity !
Mishapen chaos of well-seeming forms !
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health !
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is ! —
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh ?

Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.

Rom. Good heart, at what ?

Ben. At thy good heart's oppression.

1 i. e. should blindly and recklessly think he can surmount all obstacles
to his will.

2 Every ancient sonnetteer characterized Love by contrarieties. Wat-
Bon begins one of his canzonets —

" Love is a sowre delight, and sugred griefe,
A living death, and ever- dying life," &c.

Turberville makes Reason harangue against it in the same manner: —

" A fierie frost, a flame that frozen is with ise !
A heavie burden light to beare ! A vertue fraught with vice ! " &c«

148 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT 1.

Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. — l
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ;
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it pressed
With more of thine : this love, that thou hast shown,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs ;
Being urged,2 a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.
What is it else ? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz. [Going.

Ben. Soft, I will go along ;

An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo ; he's some other where.

Ben. Tell me in sadness,3 whom she is you love.

Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee ?

Ben. Groan ? why, no ;

But sadly tell me who.

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will.
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill !
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

Ben. I aimed so near, when I supposed you loved.

Rom. A right good marksman ! — And she's fair I love.

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss : she'll not be 1 it
With Cupid's arrow ; she hath Dian's wit ;
And in strong proof of chastity well armed,
From love's weak, childish bow she lives unharmed,
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.
O, she is rich in beauty ; only poor,
That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.4

1 Such is the consequence of unskilful and mistaken kindness.

3 The old copy reads, " Being purged a fire," &c.— The emendation
admitted into the text was suggested by Dr. Johnson. To urge the fire
is to kindle or excite it

3 i. e. in seriousness.

4 The meaning appears to be, as Mason gives it, " She is poor only,
because she leaves no part of her store behind her, as with her, all beauty
will die."

SC. II.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 149

Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live
chaste ?

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge

waste ;

For beauty, starved with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise ; wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair.
She hath forsworn to love ; and, in that vow,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.

Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think.

Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ;
Examine other beauties.

Rom. 'Tis the way

To call hers, exquisite, in question more.1
These happy masks,2 that kiss fair ladies' brows,
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair;
He that is strucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Where I may read, who passed that passing fair ?
Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget.

Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

[Exeunt

SCENE II. A Street.

Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant.

Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike ; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honorable reckoning are you both ;

1 i. e. to call her exquisite beauty more into my mind, and make it
more the subject of conversation.

2 This means no more than the happy masks, according to a form of
expression not unusual with the old writers.

150 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT 1

And pity 'tis, you lived at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before.
My child is yet a stranger in the world;
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years ;
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to he a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Cap. And too soon marred are those so early made.1
The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she ;
She is the hopeful lady of my earth.2
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part ; 3
An she agree, within her scope of choice,
Lies my consent and fair-according voice.
This night I hold an old accustomed feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love ; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light.
Such comfort, as do lusty young men 4 feel
When well-apparelled April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit5 at my house ; hear all, all see,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be ;
Which, on more view of many, mine being one,6
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.

1 The quarto of 1597 reads :—

" And too soon marred are those so early married"

2 Fille de terre is the old French phrase for an heiress ; but Mason sug
gests that earth may here mean corporal part, as again in this play —

" Can I go forward, when rny heart is here ?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out."

3 i. e. in comparison to.

4 For " lusty young men " Johnson would read " lusty yeomen." Ritson
has clearly shown that young men was used for yeomen in our elder
language.

5 To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to possess.

6 By a perverse adherence to the first quarto copy of 1597, which reads,
" Such amongst view of many," &c., this passage has bec-n made unin

SC. II.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 151

Come, go with me. — Go, sirrah, trudge about

Through fair Verona ; find those persons out,

Whose names are written there, [Gives a paper,'] and

to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

[Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS.
Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here ? ]
It is written — that the shoemaker should meddle with
his yard, — and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
his pencil, and the painter with his nets ; but I am
sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ,
and can never find what names the writing person hath
here writ. I must to the learned. — In good time.

Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO.

Ben. Tut, man ! one fire burns out another's burning,

One pain is lessened by another's anguish ;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning ;

One desperate grief cures with another's languish.
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.

Rom. Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that.2

Ben. For what, I pray thee ?

Rom. For your broken skin.

Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ?

telligible. The subsequent quartos and the folio read, " Which one [on]
more," &c. , evidently meaning-, " Hear all, see all, and like her most
who has the most merit ; Tier, which, after regarding attentively the many,
my daughter being one, may stand unique in merit, though she may be
reckoned nothing, or held in no estimation. The allusion, as Malone has
shown, is to the old proverbial expression, " One is no number." It will
be unnecessary to inform the reader that which is here used for who, a
substitution frequent in Shakspeare, as in all the writers of his time. One
of the later quartos has corrected the error of the others, and reads as in
the present text: —

"Which on more view," &c.

1 The quarto of 1597 adds, " And yet I know not who are written here ;
I must to the learned to learn of them : that's as much as to say, the
tailor," &c.

2 The plantain-leaf is a blood-stancher, and was formerly applied to
green wounds. So in Albumazar : —

"Help, Armellina, help! I'm fallen i'the cellar:
Bring a fresh plantain-leaf', I've broke my shin."

152 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT 1

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is ,
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipped and tormented, and — Good-e'en, good fellow.

Serv. God gi' good e'en — I pray, sir, can you read ?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book.
But, I pray, can you read any thing you see ?

Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language.

Serv. Ye say honestly ; rest you merry !

Rom. Stay, fellow ; I can read. [Reads.

Seignior Martino, and his wife and daughters ; County
Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow
of Yitruvio ; Seignior Placentio, and his lovely nieces :
Mercutio, and his brother Valentine ; Mine uncle Cap-
ulet, his wife, and daughters ; My fair niece Rosaline ;
Livia ; Seignior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt ; Lucio,
and the lively Helena.

A fair assembly. [Gives back the note.~\ Whither
should they come ?

Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither?

Serv. To supper ; to our house.

Rom. Whose house ?

Serv. My master's.

Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before.

Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master
is the great rich Capulet ; and if you be not of the
house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of
wine.1 Rest you merry. [Exit.

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st ;
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither ; and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

1 This cant expression seems to have been once common ; it often
occurs in old plays.

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULlE/T. 153

Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye

Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires !
And these, — who, often drowned, could never die, —

Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars !
One fairer than my love ! the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.

Ben. Tut ! you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself poised with herself in either eye ;
But in those crystal scales, let there be weighed
Your lady's love l against some other maid
That I will show you, shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well, that now shows best.

Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Room in Capulet's House.2

Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.

La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her
forth to me.

Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old,
I bade her come. — What, lamb ! what, lady-bird ! —
God forbid ! — where's this girl ? what, Juliet !

Enter JULIET.

Jul. How now ; who calls ?
Nurse. Your mother.

Jul. Madam, I am here ;

What is your will ?

La. Cap. This is the matter. — Nurse, give leave
awhile,

1 Heath says, « Your lady's love, is the love you bear to your lady, which,
in our language, is commonly used for the lady herself." . Perhaps we
should read, " Your lady love"

2 In all the old copies the greater part of this scene was printed as
prose. Capell was the first who exhibited it as verse ; the subsequent
editors have followed him, but perhaps erroneously.

VOL. vii. 20

154 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT 1.

We must talk in secret — Nurse, come back again,
I have remembered me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,

And yet, to my teen l be it spoken, I have but four. —
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide ?

La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days.

Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen.
Susan and she — God rest all Christian souls ! —
Were of an age. — Well, Susan is with God ;
She was too good for me. But, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen ;
That shall she, marry ; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years ;
And she was weaned, — I never shall forget it, —
Of all the days of the year, upon that day ;
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua. —
Nay, I do bear a brain ; — but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool !
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug,
Shake, quoth the dove-house ; 'twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge.

And since that time it is eleven years ;
For then she could stand alone ; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about,
For even the day before, she broke her brow ;
And then my husband — God be with his soul .
'A was a merry man ; — took up the child.
Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face ?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit ;
Wilt thou not, Me ? and, by my holy-dam,

1 i. e. to my sorrow.

SO. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 155

The pretty wretch left crying, and said — Ay.

To see now, how a jest shall come about !

I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,

I never should forget it ; Wilt thou not, Me ? quoth he :

And, pretty fool, it stinted,1 and said — Ay.

La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy
peace.

Nurse. Yes, madam ; yet I cannot choose but 2

laugh,

To think it should leave crying, and say — Ay.
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone;
A parlous knock, and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, falPst upon thy face ?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou contest to age ;
Wilt thou not, Jule? It stinted, and said — Ay.

Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his

grace !

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed ;
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme
I came to talk of. — Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married ?

Jul. It is an honor that I dream not of.

Nurse. An honor ! wrere not I thine only nurse,
I'd say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy teat.

La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now ; younger

than you,

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers ; by my count,
I was your mother much upon these years
That you are now a man}. Thus, then, in brief; —
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse. A man, young lady ! Lady, such a man,
As all the world — Why, he's a man of wax.3

1 To stint is to stop.

2 This tautologous speech is not in the first quarto of 1597. -

3 L e. as well made as if he had been modelled in wax.

156 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT 1

La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower ; in faith, a very flower.1

La. Cap. What say you ? can you love the gen
tleman ?

This night you shall behold him at our feast ;
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ;
Examine every married 2 lineament,
And see how one another lends content ;
And what obscured in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.3
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover.
The fish lives in the sea ; 4 and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide.
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story ;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

Nurse. No less ? nay, bigger ; women grow by
men.

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love ?

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move ;
But no more deep will I endart 5 mine eye,
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served
up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse

1 After this speech of the nurse, lady Capulet, in the old quarto,
says only; —

« Well, Juliet, how like you of Paris' love ? "

She answers, " I'll look to like," &c. ; and so concludes the scene.

a Thus the quarto of 1599. The quarto of 1609 and the folio read,
several lineaments.

3 The comments on ancient books were generally printed in the
margin.

4 Dr. Farmer explains this, « The fish is not yet caught." Fish-skin
covers to books anciently were not uncommon.

5 The quarto of 1597 reads engage mine eye.

SC. IV.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 157

cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity.
I must hence to wait ; I beseech you, follow straight.

La. Cap. We follow thee. — Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Street.

Enter ROMEO, MERcuxio,1 BENVOLIO, with Jive or six
maskers, torch-bearers, and others.

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our

excuse ?
Or shall we on without apology ?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity.2
We'll have no Cupid hood-winked with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,3
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;4
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
After the prompter for our entrance ;
But, let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Rom. Give me a torch.5 — I am not for this ambling.
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me ; you have dancing shoes.
With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead,
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.

Mer. You are a lover ; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.

Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,

1 Shakspeare appears to have formed this character on the following-
slight hint : — " Another gentleman, called Mercutio, which was a court-
like gentleman, very well beloved of all men, and by reason of his
pleasant and courteous behavior was in all companies well entertained."—
Painter's Palace of Pleasure, torn. ii. p. 221.

2 " Introductory speeches are out of date or fashion."

3 The Tartarian bows resemble, in their form, the old Roman or Cupid's
bow, such as we see on medals and bass-relief.

4 See King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6.

5 A torch-nearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskers.
To hold a torch was anciently no degrading office.

158 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I

To soar with his light feathers ; and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love ;
Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Rom. Is love a tender thing ? It is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous ; and it pricks like thorn.

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love,
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. —
Give me a case to put my visage in.

[Putting on a mask.
A visor for a visor ! — What care I,
What curious eye doth quote 1 deformities ?
Here are the beetle-brow7s, shall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock, and enter ; and no sooner in,
But every man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart,
Tickle the senseless rushes2 with their heels ;
For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase, —
I'll be a candle-holder,3 and look on, —
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own

word.

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire 4
Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears. — Come, we burn daylight,5 ho.

Rom. Nay, that's not so.

1 To quote is to note, to mark.

2 It has been before observed, that the apartments of our ancestors
were strewed with rushes ; and so, it seems, was the ancient stage.

3 To hold the candk is a common proverbial expression for being an
idle spectator. There is another old prudential maxim subsequently al
luded to, which advises to give over when the game is at the fairest

4 Dun is the mouse, is a proverbial saying, to us of vague signification,
alluding to the color of the mouse, but frequently employed with no
other intent than that of quibbling on the word done. Why it is attrib
uted to a constable we know not. To draw dun out of the mire was a
rural pastime, in which dun meant a dun horse, supposed to be stuck in
the mire, and sometimes represented by one of the persons who played,
at others, by a log of wood. Mr. Gifford has described the game at
which he remembers often to have played, in a note to Ben Jonson's
Masque of Christmas, vol. vii. p. 282.

5 This proverbial phrase was applied to superfluous actions in general.

SC. IV.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 159

Mer. I mean, sir, in delay

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning ; for our judgment sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.1

Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask ;
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer. Why, may one ask ?

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.

Mer. And so did I.

Rom. Well, what was yours ?

Mer. That dreamers often lie.

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things
true.

Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife ; 2 and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,3
Drawn with a team of little atomies 4
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:
Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ;
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams :
Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film :
Her wagoner, a small, gray-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid :
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love :
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight :

1 The quarto of 1597 reads, " Three times a-day ; " and right wits
instead of Jive wits.

2 The fairies' midwife does not mean the midwife to the fairies, but
that she was the person among the fairies whose department it was to
deliver the fancies of sleeping men of their dreams, those children of an
idle brain. Warhurton reads, "the/anci/'s midwife."

3 The quarto of 1597 has " of a burgomaster." The citizens of Shak'
speare's time appear to have worn this ornament on the thumb.

4 Jltomies for atoms.

160 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I.

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees :
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream ;
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,1
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit : 2
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep ;
Then dreams he of another benefice : X
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,3
Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon
Drums in his ear ; at which he starts and wakes ;
And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horses in the night ;
And bakes the elf-locks 4 in foul, sluttish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This, this is she —

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace ;

Thou talk'st of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams ;

Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ;
Which is as thin of substance as the air;
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being angered, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

1 This speech received much alteration after the first edition in the
quarto of 1597 ; and Shakspeare has inadvertently introduced the courtier
twice.

2 A place in court

3 The quarto of 1597 reads, " counter mines." Spanish blades were
held in high esteem. A sword was called a Toledo, from the excellency
»f the Toledan steel.

4 i. e. fairy locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in the night

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 161

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves ;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I fear too early ; for my mind misgives,
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels ; and expire 1 the term
Of a despised life, closed in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail ! On, lusty gentlemen.

Ben. Strike, drum.2 [Exeunt.

SCENE V.3 A Hall in Capulet's House. Musi
cians waiting.

Enter Servants.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take
away ? He shift a trencher ! 4 he scrape a trencher !

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or
two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul
thing.

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the
court-cupboard,5 look to the plate. — Good thou, save
me a piece of marchpane ; 6 and, as thou lovest me,
let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. —
Antony ! and Potpan !

2 Serv. Ay, boy ; ready.

1 So in The Rape of Lucrece : —

" An expired date cancelled ere well begun."

2 Here the folio adds : — " They march about the stage, and serving-men
come forth with their napkins"

3 This scene is not in the first copy in the quarto of 1597.

4 To shift a trencher was technical. Trenchers were used in ShaK-
speare's time, and long after, by persons of good fashion and quality.

5 The court-cupboard was the ancient sideboard, whereon the plate was
displayed at festivals.

6 Marchpane was a constant article in the desserts of our ancestors.
It was a sweet cake, composed of filberts, almonds, pistachoes, pine-
kernels, and sugar of roses, with a small portion of flour. They were-
often made in fantastic forms. In 1562, the Stationers' Company paid
" for ix. marchpaynes xxvi, s. viii. rf."

VOL. VII. 21

162 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I.

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked
for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too. — Cheerly,
boys ; be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

[They retire behind.

Enter CAPULET, &c. with the guests and the maskers.

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ! Ladies, that have their

toes

Unplagued with corns, will have a bout with you. —
Ah ha, my mistresses ! which of you all
Will now deny to dance ? She that makes dainty she,
I'll swear hath corns : am I come near you now?
You are welcome, gentlemen ! I have seen the day,
That I have worn a visor ; and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please ; — 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone.
You are welcome, gentlemen ! — Come, musicians, play.
A hall ! a hall ! l give room, and foot it, girls.

[Music plays, and they dance.
More lights, ye knaves ; and turn the tables up,2
And quench the fire ; the room is grown too hot. —
Ah, sirrah, this unlooked-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin3 Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days.
How long is't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask ?

2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years.

1 Cap. What, man ! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so

much :

'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,
Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,
Some five-and-twenty years ; and then we masked.

1 An exclamation commonly used to make room in a crowd for any
particular purpose.

2 The ancient tables were flat leaves or boards joined by hinges and
placed on tressels ; when they were to be removed, they were therefore
turned up.

3 Cousin was a common expression for kinsman.

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 163

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more ; his son is elder, sir ;
His son is thirty.

1 Cap. Will you tell me that?

His son was but a ward two years ago.1

Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight ?

Serv. I know not, sir.

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to bum bright!
It seems she & hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear ;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear !
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows.
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows ;
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now ? forswear it, sight !
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague ; —
Fetch me my rapier, boy. — What ! dares the slave
Come hither, covered with an antic face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ?
Now, by the stock and honor of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman ? wherefore storm
you so ?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe ;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

1 Cap. Young Romeo is't ?

Tyb. Tis he ; that villain Romeo

1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone ;
He bears him like a portly gentleman ;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-governed youth.

1 This speech stands thus in the quarto of 1597 : —

« Will you tell me that ? it cannot be so :
His son was but a ward three years ago :
Good youths, i' faith !— O youth's a jolly thing ! n

2 Steevens reads, with the second folio : —

" Her beauty hangs upon," &c.

164 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I

I would not for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement ;
Therefore be patient, take no note of him ;
It is my will ; the which if thou respect,
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest ;
I'll not endure him.

1 Cap. He shall be endured ;

What, goodman boy ? — I say, he shall. — Go to ; —
Am I the master here, or you ? go to.
You'll not endure him ! — God shall mend my soul —
You'll make a mutiny among my guests !
You will set cock-a-hoop ! you'll be the man !

Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

1 Cap. Go to, go to.

You are a saucy boy. — Is't so, indeed ? —
This trick may chance to scath l you ; — I know what.
You must contrary me ! marry, 'tis time —
Well said, my hearts. — You are a princox ; 2 go : —
Be quiet, or — More light, more light, for shame ! —
I'll make you quiet. What ! cheerly, my hearts.

Tyb. Patience perforce 3 with wilful choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw ; but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit.

Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand

[To JULIET.

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this —
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too
much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this ;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm, is holy palmers' kiss.

1 i. e. do you an injury. The word has still this meaning in Scotland.

2 A pert, forward youth. The word is apparently a corruption of the
Latin prfEcox.

3 There is an old adage — "Patience perforce is a medicine for a
mad dog."

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 165

Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too ?

Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers'
sake.

Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect

I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

[Kissing her.1

Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Rom. Sin from my lips ? O trespass sweetly

urged.
Give me my sin again.

Jul. You kiss by the book.

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with
you.

Rom. What is her mother ?

Nurse. Marry, bachelor !

Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous.
I nursed her daughter, that you talked withal ;
I tell you, — he that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chinks.

Rom. Is she a Capulet ?

0 dear account ! my life is my foe's debt.

Ben. Away, begone ; the sport is at the best.

Rom. Ay, so I fear ; the more is my unrest.

1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone :
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.2 —
Is it e'en so ? Why, then I thank you all ;

1 thank you, honest gentlemen ; 3 good night. —
More torches here ! — Come on, then let's to bed.

1 The Poet here, without doubt, copied from the mode of his own time ;
and kissing a lady in a public assembly, we may conclude, was not then
thought indecorous.

2 Towards is ready, at hand.

3 Here the quarto of 1597 adds : —

" I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been in bed an hour ago:
Light to my chamber, ho ! "

166 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I.

Ah, sirrah, [To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late ;
I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse.

Jul. Come hither, nurse ; what is yon gentleman ?

Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.

Jul. What's he that now is going out of door ?

Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.

Jul. What's he that follows there, that would not
dance ?

Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Go ask his name ; — if he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague,
The only son of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love, sprung from my only hate !
Too early seen unknown, and known too late !
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurse. What's this ? what's this ?

Jul. A rhyme I learned even now
Of one I danced withal. [One calls within, Juliet.

Nurse. Anon, anon : —

Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone.

[Exeunt.

Enter CHORUS. *

Now old Desire doth in his deathbed lie,

And young Affection gapes to be his heir ;
That fair,2 which Love groaned for, and would die,

With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair.
Now Romeo is beloved, and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks ;
But to his foe supposed he must complain,

And she steal Love's sweet bait from fearful hooks.

1 This chorus is not in the first edition, quarto, 1597.

2 Fair, it has been already observed, was formerly used as a substan*
tive, and was synonymous with beaut)/. The old copies read : —

" That fair for which love groaned for," &c.
This reading Mai one defends ; Steevens treats it as a corruption.

SC. I] ROMEO AND JULIET. 167

Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear ;

And she as much in love, her means much less
To meet her new-beloved any where.

But Passion lends them power, Time, means to meet,

Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I. An open Place adjoining Capulet's

Garden.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Can 1 go forward, when my heart is here ?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

[He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.

Ben. Romeo ! my cousin Romeo !

Mer. He is wise;

And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed.

Ben. He ran this way, and leaped this orchard

wall.
Call, good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure, too. —

Romeo ! humors ! madman ! passion ! lover !
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied ;
Cry but — Ah me ! pronounce * but — love and dove ;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

i This is the reading of the quarto of 1597. Those of 1599 and 1609,
and the folio, read provaunt, an evident corruption. The folio of 1632
has couply, meaning couple, which has been the reading of many modern
editions.

168 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II.

One nickname for her purblind son and heir,
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,1
When king Cophetua loved the beggar-maid.—
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not ;
The ape 2 is dead, and I must conjure him. —
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

Mer. This cannot anger him ; 'twould anger him
To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
Till she had laid it, and conjured it down ;
That w^ere some spite. My invocation
Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees,
To be consorted with the humorous 3 night.
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
And wish his mistress w:ere that kind of fruit,
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.4 —
Romeo, good night ; — I'll to my truckle-bed ;
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.
Come, shall we go ?

Ben. Go, then ; for 'tis in vain

To seek him here, that means not to be found.

[Exeunt.

1 All the old copies read, AlraJiam Cupid. The alteration was pro
posed by Mr. Upton. It evidently alludes to the famous archer Adam
Bell. The ballad alluded to is King- Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, or,
as it is called in some copies, " The Song of a Beggar and a King." It
may be seen in the first volume of Percy's Reliqucs of Ancient Poetry.

2 This phrase, in Shakspeare's time, was used as an expression of ten
derness, like poor fool, &c.

3 i. e. the humid, the moist, dewy night. Chapman uses the word in
this sense in his translation of Homer.

4 After this line in the old copies are two lines of ribaldry.

mam

SC. II.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 171

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb ;
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these

walls ;

For stony limits cannot hold love out ;
And what love can do, that dares love attempt ;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let l to me.

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords ; look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world tKey saw thee here.

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their

sight ;

And, but3 thou love me, let them find me here.
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued,3 wanting of thy love.

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this
place ?

Rom. By Love, who first did prompt me to inquire ;
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot ; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore washed with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.

Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my

face;

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke ; but farewell compliment ! 4
Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say — Ay ;
And I will take thy word ; yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs.5 O gentle Romeo,

1 i. e. no stop, no hinderance. Thus the quarto of 1597. The subse«
quent copies read, " no stop to me."

2 But is here again used in its exceptive sense, ivithout or unless.

3 i. e. postponed.

4 i. e. farewell attention to forms.

5 This Shakspeare found in Ovid's Art of Love.

172 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II

If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.—
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo ; but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ;
And therefore thou mayst think my havior light :
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.1
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion. Therefore pardon me ;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Jlom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops, —

JuL O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Rom. What shall I swear by ?

JuL Do not swear at all;

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom. If my heart's dear love —

JuL Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night.
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be.
Ere one can say — It lightens.12 Sweet, good night !
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night ! As sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast !

Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ?

JuL What satisfaction canst thou have to-night ?

Rom. The exchange of thy Jove's faithful vow for
mine.

1 To be distant or shy.

2 All the intermediate lines from " Sweet, good night ! " to « Stay but a
liitle" &c. were added after the first impression in 1597.

SO. II.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 173

Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it ;
And yet I would it were to give again.

Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it ? For what purpose,
love ?

Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep ; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

[Nurse calls within.

I hear some noise within ; dear love, adieu !
Anon, good nurse ! — Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.

Rom. O blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream,
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night,

indeed.

If that thy bent of love be honorable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite ;
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.

Nurse. [Within.'} Madam !

Jul. I come anon. — But if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee,

Nurse. [Within.} Madam!

Jul. By and by, I come : —

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
To-morrow will I send.

Rom. So thrive my soul,

Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit.

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy

light-
Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books ;
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

[Retiring slowly.

174 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

Jul. Hist ! Romeo, hist ! — O, for a falconer's voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle ! back again !
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ;
Else would I tear the cave where echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine
With repetition of my Romeo's name.

Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name ;
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears !

Jul. Romeo !

Rom. My sweet ! 2

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow

Shall I send to thee ?

Rom. At the hour of nine.

Jul. I will not fail ; 'tis twenty years till then.
I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company.

Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone;
And yet no further than a wanton's bird ;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. J would I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet, so would I ;

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

1 The tassel, or tiercel (for so it should be spelled), is the male of the
gosshawk, and is said to be so called because it is a tierce or third less
than the female. This is equally true of all birds of prey. This species
of hawk had the epithet of gentle annexed to it, from the ease with which
it was tamed, and its attachment to man.

2 The quarto of 1597 puts the cold, distant, and formal appellation
Madam, into the mouth of Romeo. — The two subsequent quartos and the
folio have " my m'ece." " My sweet " is the reading of the second folio.

SO. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 175

Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say, Good night, till it be morrow. [Exit.

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy

breast ! —

'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest !
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell ;
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.

SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket.

Fri. The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning

night,1

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ;
And flecked 2 darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels.3
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this osier cage of ours,
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb ;
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find ;
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace 4 that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities ;
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give ;
Nor aught so good, but, strained from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.

1 In the folio, and the three later quartos, these four lines are printed
twice over, and given once to Romeo and once to the friar.

2 Flecked is spotted, dappled, streaked, or variegated.

3 This is the reading of the second folio. The quarto of 1597 reads : —

" From forth day's path and Titan's firy wheels."
The quarto of 1599, and the folio, have " burning wheels."

4 Efficacious virtue.

176 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II.

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ;

And vice sometime's by action dignified.

Within the infant rind of this small flower,

Poison hath residence, and med'cine power ;

For this, being smelt, with that part 1 cheers each part ;

Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.

Two such opposed foes encamp them still

In man as W7ell as herbs, grace, and rude will ;

And, where the worser is predominant,

Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Good morrow, father !

Fri. Benedicite !

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ? —
Young son, it argues a distempered head,
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie ;
But where unbruised youth with unstuffed brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Thou art uproused by some distemperature ;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right —
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.

Fri. God pardon sin ! wast thou with Rosaline ?

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? No ;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

Fri. That's my good son ; but where hast thou
been, then ?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy ;
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded ; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lies.2

1 i. e. with its odor.

2 In the Anglo-Saxon and very old English, the third person plural of
the present tense ends in eth, and often familiarly in es, as might be

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 177

I bear no hatred, blessed man ; for, lo,
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet.
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine ;
And all combined, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage. When, and where, and how,
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us this day.

Fri. Holy saint Francis ! what a change is here !
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken ? Young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria ! what a deal of brine
Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline !
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste !
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline ;
And art thou changed ? pronounce this sentence then —
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

Rom. And bad'st me bury love.

Fri. Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.

Rom. I pray thee, chide not. She, whom I love now,
Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow ;
The other did riot so.

Fri. O, she knew well,

Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.

exemplified from Chaucer and others. This idiom was not worn out in
Shakspeare's time.

VOL. vii. 23

178 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II.

But come, young waverer, come, go with me ;

In one respect I'll thy assistant be ;

For this alliance may so happy prove,

To turn your households' rancor to pure love.

Rom. O, let us hence ; I stand on sudden haste.1
Fri. Wisely, and slow ; they stumble that run fast.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Street.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.

Her. Where the devil should this Romeo be ? —
Came he not home to-night ?

Ben. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his man.

Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that

Rosaline,
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter.

Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how
he dares, being dared.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead ! Stabbed
with a white wench's black eye ; shot thorough the ear
with a love-song ; the very pin of his heart cleft with
the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft.2 And is he a man to
encounter Tybalt ?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt ?

Mer. More than prince of cats,3 I can tell you.
O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He
rights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance,

1 " It is incumbent upon me, or it is of importance to me, to use ex
treme haste."

2 The allusion is to archery. The clout, or white mark, at which the
arrows were directed, was fastened by a black pin, placed in the centre
of it. To hit this, was the highest ambition of every marksman.

3 Tybert, the name given to a cat, in the old story-book of Renard the
Fox.

SC. IV.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 179

and proportion ; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and
the third in your bosom ; the very butcher of a silk
button,1 a duellist, a duellist ; a gentleman of the very
first house, — of the first and second cause.2 Ah, the
immortal passado ! the punto reverse ! the hay ! 3

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accents ! — By Jesu,
a very good blade ! — a very tall man — a very good
whore! — Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grand-
sire,4 that we should be thus afflicted with these strange
flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moys, who
stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit
at ease on the old bench?5 O. their bons, their bons!

Enter ROMEO.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. — O flesh,
flesh, how art them fishified ! — Now is he for the num
bers that Petrarch flowed in ; Laura, to his lady, was
but a kitchen wench ; — marry, she had a better love to
be-rhyme her : Dido, a dowdy ; Cleopatra, a gypsy ;
Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots ; Thisbe, a gray
eye or so,6 but not to the purpose. — Seignior Romeo,
bonjour! there's a French salutation to your French
slop.7 You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

1 So in the Return from Parnassus : —

" Strikes his poinado at a button's breadth."

2 i. e. one who understands the whole science of quarrelling1, and will tell
you of the first cause, and the second cause, for which a man is to fig-lit.
The clown, in As You Like It, talks of the seventh cause, in the same
sense.

3 All the terms of the fencing-school were originally Italian ; the rapier
being- first used in Italy. The hay is the word hai, you have it, used when
a thrust reaches the antagonist.

4 Apostrophizing- his ancestors, whose sober times were unacquainted
with the fopperies here complained of.

5 During- the ridiculous fashion which prevailed, of great "boulstered
breeches," it is said, that it was necessary to cut away hollow places in
the benches of the house of commons, to make room for those mon
strous protuberances, without which those who stood on the new form could
not sit at ease on the old bench.

6 A grai/ eye appears to have meant what we now call a Hue eye.

7 Tlie slop was a kind of wide-kneed breeches, or rather trousers.

ISO ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II.

Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit
did I give you ?

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip. Can you riot conceive ?

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was
great ; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain
courtesy.

Mer. That's as much as to say — such a case as yours
constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. Meaning — to courtesy.

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.

Rom. A most courteous exposition.

Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

Rom. Pink for flower.

Mer. Right.

Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered.1

Mer. Well said. Follow me this jest now, till thou
hast worn out thy pump ; that, when the single sole
of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing,
solely singular.

Rom. O single-soled 2 jest, solely singular for the
singleness.

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio ; my wits fail.

Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry
a match.

Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase,3 I
have done ; for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one
of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five.
Was I with you there for the goose ?

Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing, when
thou wast not there for the goose.

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not.

1 Here is a vein of wit too thin to be easily found. The fundamental
idea is, that Romeo wore pinked pumps ; that is, punched with holes in
figures. It was the custom to wear ribands in the shoes, formed in the
shape of roses or other flowers.

2 Single-soled means simple, silly. " He is a good sengyll soule, and
can do no harm ; est doli nescias non simplex." — Herman's Vulgaria.

3 One kind of horse-race, which resembled the flight of wild-geese, was
formerly known by this name. — Two horses were started together, and
whichever rider could get the lead, the other rider was obliged to follow
him wherever he chose to go.

SC. IV.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 181

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ; l it is a
most sharp sauce.

Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ?

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel,2 that stretches
from an inch narrow to an ell broad !

Rom. 1 stretch it out for that word — broad ; which,
added to the goose, proves thee, far and wide, a broad
goose.

Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for
bve ? Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo;
now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by na
ture ; for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that
runs lolling up and down to hide his bawble in a hole.

Ben. Stop there, stop there.

Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against
the hair.3

Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

Mer. O, thou art deceived ; I would have made it
short ; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale ;
and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

Rom. Here's goodly gear !

Enter Nurse and PETER.

Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail !
Ben. Two, two ; a shirt, and a smock.
Nurse. Peter !
Peter. Anon !
Nurse. My fan, Peter.4

Mer. 'Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face ;
tor her fan's the fairer of the two.

Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good den,5 fair gentlewoman.

1 The allusion is to an apple of that name.

2 Soft, stretching leather ; kid leather.

3 This phrase, which is of French extraction, a contre poll, occurs again
in Troilus and Cressida : — " Merry against the hair"

4 The business of Peter carrying the nurse's fan, seems ridiculous to
modern manners ; but it was formerly the practice.

5 i. e. " God give you a good even" The first of these contractions is
common in our old dramas.

182 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II.

Nurse. Is it good den ?

Mcr. 'Tis no less, I tell you ; for the bawdy hand
of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Nurse. Out upon you ! what a man are you ?

Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made
himself to mar.

Nurse. By my troth, it is well said. — For himself
to mar, quoth 'a ? — Gentlemen, can any of you tell me
where I may find the young Romeo ?

Rom. I can tell you ; but young Romeo \vill be
older when you have found him, than he was when
you sought him. I am the youngest of that name, for
'fault of a worse,

Nurse. You say well.

Mer. Yea, is the worst well ? Very well took,
i' faith ; wisely, wisely.

Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence
with you.

Ben. She will indite him to some supper.

Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So ho !

Rom. What hast thoti found ?

Mer. No hare, sir ; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten
pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

An old hare hoar.1

And an old hare hoar,
Is venj good meat in Lent :

But a hare that is hoar,

Is too much for a score,
When it hoars ere it be spent. —

Romeo, will you come to your father's ? We'll to dinner
thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady ; fire well, lady, lady,
lady.2 [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.

l Hoar or hoary is often used for mouldy, as things grow white from
moulding. These lines seem to have heen part of an old song. In the
quarto, 1597, wo have this stngo direction: « He walks by them [i. e. the
nurse and Peter], and sings"

% The burden of an old song. See Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

SO. IV.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 183

Nurse. Marry, farewell ! — I pray you, sir, what saucy
merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery P1

Rom, A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself
talk ; and will speak more in a minute, than he will
stand to in a month.

Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll take
him down an 'a were Hstier than he is, and twenty
such Jacks ; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.
Scurvy knave ! I am none of his flirt-gills ; I am none
of his skains-mates.2 — And thou must stand by too,
and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure ?

Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure ; if I
had, rny weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant
you. I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see
occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every
part about me quivers. Scurvy knave ! — 'Pray you,
sir, a word ; and, as I told you, my young lady
bade me inquire you out ; what she bade me say, I
will keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye
should lead her into a Lol's paradise, as they say, it
were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say ; for
the gentlewoman is young ; and, therefore, if you should
deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be
offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress.
I protest unto thee,

Nurse. Good heart ! and i' faith, I will tell her as
much. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse ? thou dost not
mark me.

Nurse. I will tell her, sir, — that you do protest ;
which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
This afternoon ;

1 Ropery was anciently used in the same sense as roguery is now.

2 By skains-mates the old lady probably means swaggering companions
A skain, or skein, was an Irish knife or dagger, a weapon suitable to the
purpose of ruffling fellows.

184 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II,

And there she shall, at friar Laurence' cell,

Be shrived, and married. Here is for thy pains.

Nurse. No, truly, sir ; not a penny.

Rom. Go to ; I say you shall.

Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:
Within this hour my man shall be with thee ;
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair,1
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convroy in the secret night.
Farewell ! — Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Farewell ! — Commend me to thy mistress.

Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee ! — Hark you,
sir.

Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse ?

Nurse. Is your man secret ? Did you ne'er hear

say —
Two may keep counsel, putting one away ?

Rom. I warrant thee ; my man's as true as steel.

Nurse. Well, sir ; my mistress is the sweetest la
dy, — Lord, Lord! — when 'twas a little prating thing,—
O, — there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would
fain lay knife aboard ; but she, good soul, had as lieve
see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her
sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man ;
but, I'll warrant you*, when I say so, she looks as pale
as any clout in the varsal world. Doth not rosemary
and Romeo begin both with a letter?2

Rom. Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

Nurse. Ah, mocker ! that's the dog's name. R is
for the do£. No : I know it begins with some other

o ~ C

1 i. e. like stairs of rope in tho tackle of a ship. A stair, for a flight
of stairs, is still the language of Scotland, and was once common to both
kingdoms.

2 The nurse is represented as a prating, silly creature ; she says that
she will tell Romeo a good joke about his mistress, and asks him whether
rosemary and Romeo do not both begin vith a letter: he says yes, an
R. She, who, we must suppose, could not read, thought lie mocked her,
and says, No, sure I know better, R is the dog's name ; yours begins with
some other letter. This is natural enough, and in character. Ben Jonson,
in his English Grammar, sayp "R is the dog's letter, and hirreth in the
sound"

SC. V.] KOMEO AND JULIET. 185

letter ; and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of
you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.

Rom. Commend me to thy lady. [Exit.

Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. — Peter !

Pet. Anon !

Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Capulet's Garden.

Enter JULIET.

Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did send the

nurse ;

In half an hour she promised to return.
Perchance, she cannot meet him : that's not so. —
O, she is lame ! Love's heralds should be thoughts,1
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over lowering hills ;
Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day's journey ; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours, — yet she is not come.
Had she affections, and warm, youthful blood,
She'd be as swift, in motion as a ball ;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me.

But old folks, many feign as they were dead ;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

1 The speech is thus continued in the quarto, 1597 : —

" should be thoughts,

And run more swift than hasty powder fired
Doth hurry from the fearful cannon's mouth.
Oh, now she comes ! Tell me, gentle nurse,
What says my love ? "

The greatest part of this scene is likewise added since that edition.
Shakspeare, however, seems to have thought one of the ideas comprised
in the foregoing quotation, from the earliest quarto, too valuable to be
lost. He has, therefore, inserted it in Romeo's first speech to the apoth
ecary, in Act v. : —

" As violently as hasty powder fired

Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's v.-ornb,"
VOL. vii. 24

186 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II

Enter Nurse and PETER.

O God, she comes! — O honey nurse, what news ?
Hast thou met with him ? Send thy man away.

Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit PETER.

Jill. Now, good sweet nurse, — O Lord ! why

look'st thou sad ?

Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily ;
If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Nurse. I am weary ; give me leave awhile ; —
Fie, how my bones ache ! What a jaunt have I had !

Jul. I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy news.
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ; — good, good nurse, speak.

Nurse. Jesu, what haste ? Can you not stay

awhile ?
Do you not see that I am out of breath ?

Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast

breath

To say to me — that thou art out of breath ?
The excuse, that thou dost make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy news good, or bad ? answer to that ;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance.
Let me be satisfied. Is't good or bad?

Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice ; you
know not how to choose a man. Romeo ! no, not he ;
though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg
excels all men's ; and for a hand, and a foot, and a
body, — though they be not to be talked on, yet they
are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, —
but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. — Go thy
ways, wench ; serve God. — What, have you dined at
home ?

Jul. No, no. But all this I did know before ;
What says he of our marriage ? what of that ?

Nurse. Lord, how my head aches ! what a head

have I !

It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' t' other side, — O, my back, my back ! —

ROMEO AND JULIET. 187

Beshrew your heart for sending me about,

To catch my death with jaunting up arid down !

Jul. P faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my
love ?

Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, 1 warrant, a virtuous, — where is your mother ?

Jul. Where is my mother ? — Why, she is within ;
Where should she be ? How oddly thou repliest ?
Your love says like an honest gentleman, —
Where is your mother ?

Nurse. O, God's lady dear !

Are you so hot ? Marry, come up, I trow ;
Is this the poultice for my aching bones ?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Jul. Here's such a coil, — come, what says Romeo ?

Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day ?

Jul. I have.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell ;
There stays a husband to make you a wife.
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks ;
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church ; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark.
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight ;
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner ; hie you to the cell.

Jul. Hie to high fortune ! — Honest nurse, farewell.

[Exeum.

SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and RoMEo.1

Fri. So smile the Heavens upon this holy act,
That after-hours with sorrow chide us not !

i This scene is exhibited in quite another form in the first quarto, 1597
The reader may see it in the variorum Shakspeare.

188 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT II

Rom. Amen, amen ! But come what sorrow can
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute. gives me in her sight.
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare.
It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die ! like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately : long love doth so ;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow7.1

Enter JULIET.

Here comes the lady ; — O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting; flint.2

O

A lover may bestride the gossamers
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall ; so light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.

Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.

Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbor air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagined happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit,3 more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament.
They are but beggars that can count their worth ,

1 " Precipitation produces mishap."

2 This passage originally stood thus : —

" Youth's love is quick, swifter than swiftest speed,
See where she comes ! —
So light a foot ne'er hurts the trodden flower ;
Of love and joy, see, see, the sovereign power!"
* Conceit here means imagination. Vide Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4.

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 189

But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short

work ;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt

ACT III.

SCENE I. A public Place.

Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants.

Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire ;
The day is hot,1 the Capulets abroad,
And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl ;
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that when
he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword
upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee!
and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on
the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow ?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy
mood as any in Italy ; and as soon moved to be moody,
and as soon moody to be moved.

Ben. And what to ?

Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have
none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou !
why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,
or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast. Thou wilt
quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other
reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye,

i It is observed, that, in Italy, almost all assassinations are committed
during the heat of summer.

190 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III

but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel ? Thy
head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat ;
and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg,
for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for
coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy
dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not
fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before
Easter ? with another, for tying his new shoes with
old riband ? and yet thou wilt tutor me from
quarrelling ?

Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any
man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour
and a quarter.

Mer. The fee simple ? O simple ! l

Enter TYBALT and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.

Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den; a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us ? Couple it
with something ; make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if you
will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without
giving ?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo, —

Mer. Consort ! 2 What, dost thou make us minstrels ?
an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but
discords. Here's my fiddlestick ; here's that shall make
you dance. 'Zounds, consort !

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men.
Either withdraw into some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart ; here all eyes gaze on us.

1 This and the foregoing speech have been added since the first quarto,
with some few circumstances in the rest of the scene, as well as in the
ensuing one.

2 Consort was the old term for a set or company of musicians.

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 19J

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them

gaze ;
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter ROMEO.

Tijb. Well, peace be with you, sir! Here comes my
man.

Mer. But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery !
Marry, go before to the field, he'll be your follower ;
Your worship, in that sense, may call him — man.

Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford
No better term than this — Thou art a villain.

Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting. — Villain am I none ;
Therefore farewell. I see thou know'st me not.

Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.

Rom. I do protest, I never injured thee ;
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love :
And so, good Capulet, — which name I tender
As dearly as mine own, — be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonorable, vile submission !
A la stoccata l carries it away. [Draws.

Tybalt, you rat-caicher, will you walk ?

Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me ?

Mer. Good king of cats,2 nothing but one of your
nine lives ; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as
you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of tne
eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher3
by the ears ? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears
ere it be out.

Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing.

1 The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier.

2 Alluding to his name. See Act ii. Sc. 4.

3 Warburton says, that we should read pilchc, which signifies a coat or
covering of skin or leather ; meaning the scabbard. A pilche or leathern
coat seems to have been the common dress of a carman. The old copy
reads scabbai'd.

192 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio ;

Beat down their weapons. — Gentlemen, for shame
Forbear this outrage. — Tybalt — Mercutio —
The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying
In Verona streets. — Hold, Tybalt ; — good Mercutio.

[Exeunt TYBALT and his partisans.

Mer. I am hurt ; —

A plague o' both the houses ! — I am sped. —
Is he gone, and hath nothing ?

Ben. W7hat, art thou hurt ?

Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; marry, 'tis

enough. —
Where is my page! — Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

[Exit Page.

Rom. Courage, man ; the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as
a church door ; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve ; ask for
me to-morrow, and you shall mid me a grave man.1 I
am peppered, I warrant, for this world. — A plague o'
both your houses ! — Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
cat, to scratch a man to death ! a braggart, a rogue,
a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic ! — Why
the devil came you between us ? I was hurt undei
your arm.

Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint. — A plague o' both your houses !
They have made worm's meat of me ;
1 have it, and soundly too. — Your houses!

[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.

1 After tLis, the quarto, 1597, continues Mercutio's speech as follows —

" A pox o' both your houses ! I shall be fairly mounted upon four

men's shoulders for your house of the Montagues and the Capulets : and
then some peasantly rogue, some sexton, some base slave, shall write my
epitaph, that Tybalt came and broke the prince's laws, and Mercutio was
slain for the first and second cause. Where's the surgeon ?

" Boif. He's come, sir.

" Mer. Now he'll keep a mumbling in my guts on the other side.-
Come, Benvolio, lend me thy hand : a pox o' both your houses ! "

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 193

Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stained
W.th Tybalt's slander; Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman. — O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper softened valor's steel.

Re-enter BENVOLIO.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead ;
That gallant, spirit hath aspired 1 the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth

depend;2
This but begins the woe, others must end.

Re-enter TYBALT.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

Rom. Alive ! in triumph ! and Mercutio slain !
Away to heaven, respective lenity,3
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct4 now ! —
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me ; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company ;
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him

here,
Shalt with him hence.

Rom. This shall determine that.

[ The ij fght ; TYBALT fa Us.

Sen. Romeo, away, be gone !

1 We never use the verb aspire without some particle, as to and after
There are numerous ancient examples of a similar use of it with that in
the text.

2 This day's unhappy destiny hangs over the days yet to come. There
will yet be more mischief.

3 " Respective " is " considerative."

4 Conduct for conductor.

VOL. vii. 25

1 94 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III

The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.

Stand not amazed ; — the prince will doom thee death

If thou art taken : — hence ! — be gone ! — away !

Rom. O ! I am fortune's fool ! l

Ben. Why dost thou stay?

[Exit ROMEO.

Enter Citizens, &c.

1 Cit. Which way ran he that killed Mercutio ?
Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he ?

Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

1 Cit. Up, sir, go with me ;

I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.

Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their
wives, and others.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?

Ben, O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl.
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin ! — O my brother's

child !

Unhappy sight ! ah me, the blood is spilled
Of my dear kinsman ! — Prince, as thou art true,2
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
O cousin, cousin !

Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray ?

Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did

slay.

Romeo, that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice 3 the quarrel was, and urged withal
Your high displeasure. — All this — uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed —
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tybalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts

1 In the first quarto, " O ! I am fortune's slave."

2 As thou art just and upright.

3 Nice here means silly, trifling, or wanton.

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 195

With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast ;

Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,

And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats

Cold death aside, and with the other sends

It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity

Retorts it. Romeo, he cries aloud,

Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his

tongue,

His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes ; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled ;
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained revenge,
And to't they go like lightning ; for, ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain ;
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague.
Affection makes him false ; he speaks not true.
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio ;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe ?

Mon. Not Romeo, prince ; he was Mercutio's

friend ;

His fault concludes but, what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt,

Prin. And, for that offence,

Immediately we do exile him hence :
I have an interest in your hates' proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding,
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the loss of mine.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses ;
Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses,
Therefore use none ; let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.

196 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III

Bear hence this body, and attend our will ;
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.1

[Exeunt.

ji
SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter JULIET.

JuL Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' mansion ; such a wagoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.2 —
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
That runaway's eyes may wink ; 3 and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalked of, and unseen ! —
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties ; or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. — Come, civil 4 night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods ;
Hood my unmanned blood bating in my cheeks,5
With thy black mantle ; till strange love, grown bold,
Think true love acted, simple modesty.
Come, night ! — Come, Romeo ! come, thou day in

night !
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night

1 The sentiment here enforced is different from that found in the
first edition, 1597. There the prince concludes his speech with these
words : —

" Pity shall dwell, and govern with us still ;
Mercy to all but murderers, — pardoning none that kill"

2 Here ends this speech in the original quarto. The rest of the scene
has likewise received considerable alterations and additions.

3 i. e. that the eyes of prying persons, who run away as soon as observed,
may wink, i. e. see imperfectly. Much ingenious criticism has been be
stowed in endeavoring to explain this passage. The runaway has been
supposed to refer to the sim, to night, to Juliet, to Romeo, and to Fame.
There is most probably some typographical error in the lines.

4 Civil is grave, solemn.

5 These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk is one that is not
brought to endure company. Bating is fluttering or beating the \vings
as striving to fly away.

SC. II.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 197

Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back. —

Come, gentle night ; come, loving, black-browed night.

Give me my Romeo ; and, when he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine,

That all the world will be in love with night,

And pay no worship to the garish sun. —

O, I have bought the mansion of a love,

But not possessed it; and, though I am sold,

Not yet enjoyed. So tedious is this day,

As is the night before some festival

O

To an impatient child, that hath new robes,

And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,

Enter Nurse, with cords.

And she brings news ; and every tongue, that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence. —
Now, nurse, what news ? What hast thou there ? the

cords
That Romeo bade thee fetch ?

Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.

[Throws them down.

JuL Ah me ! what news ? why dost thou wring thy
hands ?

Nurse. Ah, well-a-day ! he's dead, he's dead, he's

dead !

We are undone, lady, we are undone !
Alack the day ! — he's gone, he's killed, he's dead !

JuL Can Heaven be so envious ?

Nurse. Romeo can,

Though Heaven cannot. O Romeo! Romeo! —
Who ever would have thought it ? Romeo !

JuL What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus ?
This torture should be roared in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but J,1
And that bare vowel / shall poison more

i In Shakspeare's time, the affirmative particle ay was usually written
I ; and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling.

198 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III.

Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice :
I am not I, if there be such an I;
Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, /.
If lie be slain, say — 7; or if not, no :
Brief sounds determine of rny weal, or woe.

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,—
God save the mark ! ] — here on his manly breast.
A piteous corse, a bloody, piteous corse ;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood,
All in gore blood ; I swoonded at the sight.

Jul. O, break, my heart !— poor bankrupt, break at

once !

To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth resign ; end motion here ;
And thou, and Romeo., press one heavy bier !

Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had !
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman !
That ever I should live to see thee dead !

Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary :
Is Romeo slaughtered ? and is Tybalt dead ?
My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord ? —
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom !
For who is living, if those two are gone ?

Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished ;
Romeo, that killed him, he is banished.

Jul. O God!— did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's
blood ?

Nurse. It did, it did ; alas the day ! it did.

Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face !
Did ever 'dragon keep so fair a cave ?
Beautiful tyrant ! fiend angelical !
Dove-feathered raven ! wolvish-ravcning lamb !
Despised substance of divinest show !
Just opposite to what thou justly seenvst,
A damned saint, an honorable villain ! —
O nature ! what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend

J See Othello, Act i. Sc. L

SC. It.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 199

In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?
Was ever book, containing such vile matter,
So fairly bound ? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace !

Nurse. There's no trust,

No faith, no honesty in men ; all perjured,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. —
Ah, where's my man ? Give me some aqua vitce. —
Those griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
Shame come to Romeo !

Jul. Blistered be thy tongue,

For such a wish ! he was not born to shame.
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit ;
For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O, what a beast was 1 to chide at him !

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that killed your
cousin ?

Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband ?
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth ] thy name,
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it ? —
But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin ?
That villain cousin would have killed my husband.
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring ;
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain ;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband.
All this is comfort. Wherefore weep I, then ?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murdered me ; I would forget it fain ;
But, O! it presses to my memory,
Like damned, guilty deeds to sinners' minds.
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo — banished ;
That — banished, that one word — banished,
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.2 Tybalt's death

1 To smooth is to flatter, to speak fair ; it is here metaphorically used
for to mitigate or assuage the asperity of censure with which Romeo'a
name would be now mentioned.

2 i. e. is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts.

200 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III.

Was woe enough, if it had ended there ;

Or, — if sour woe delights in fellowship,

And needlj will be ranked with other griefs, —

Why followed not, when she said — Tybalt's dead,

Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,

Which modern1 lamentation might have moved?

But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,

Romeo is banished, — to speak that word,

Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,

All slain, all dead. — Romeo is banished, —

There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,

In that word's death ; no words can that woe sound. —

Where is my father, and my mother, nurse ?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse.
Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither.

JuL Wash they his wouncts with tears ? mine shall

be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords. — Poor ropes, you are beguiled,
Both you and I ; for Romeo is exiled.
He made you for a highway to my bed ;
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
Come, cords ; come, nurse ; I'll to my wedding bed ;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead.

Nurse. Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo
To comfort you ; — I \vot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night ;
I'll to him ; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

JuL O, find him ! give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO.

Fri. Romeo, come forth ; come forth, thoti fearful

man ;

Affliction is enamored of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.

1 Modern is trite, common.

SC, III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 201

Rom. Father, what news ? What is the prince's

doom ?

What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not ?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company.
1 bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Rom. What less than doomsday is the prince's
doom ?

Fri. A gentler judgment vanished from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha ! banishment ? be merciful, say — death ;
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death : do not say — banishment.

Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death. — Then banishment
Is death mistermed ; calling death banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness !
Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rushed aside the law,
And turned that black word death to banishment.
This is dear mercy,1 and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. — More validity,2
More honorable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo. They may seize
On the white wonder of clear Juliet's hand,

1 The quarto, 1597, reads " This is mere mercy," i. e. absolute mercy.

2 Validity is again employed to signify worth, value, as in the first scene
of King Lear. By courtship, is meant that freedom \vith which a lover is
indulged.

VOL. vn. 26

202 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III

And steal immortal blessing from her lips ;

Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,

Still blush as thinking their own kisses sin ;

But Romeo may not ; he is banished.

Flies may do this, when I from this must fly ;

They are free men, but I am banished.

And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death ?

Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife,

No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,

But — banished — to kill me ; banished ?

O friar, the damned use that word in hell ;

Howlings attend it. Flow hast thou the heart,

Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,

To mangle me with that word — banishment ?

Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a
word.

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Fri. I'll give thee armor to keep off that word ;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet banished ? — Hang up philosophy !
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom ;
It helps not, it prevails not ; talk no more.

Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

Rom. How should they, when that wise men have
no eyes ?

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.1

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not

feel.

Wcrt thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then mights! thou speak, then might's! thou tear thy hair,

1 The same phrase, and with the same meaning-, occurs in The Win
ter's Tale : —

" — — can he speak ? hear ?
Know man from man! dispute his own estate?"

i. e. his own affairs, or the present state he is in ?

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 203

And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Fri. Arise ; one knocks ; good Romeo, hide thyself.

[ Knocking with in .

Rom. Not I ; unless the breath of heart-sick groans,
Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

[Knocking.
Fri. Hark, how they knock ! — Who's there ? —

Romeo, arise ?
Thou wilt be taken. — Stay awhile : stand up ;

[Knocking.

Run to my study. — By and by ; — God's will !
What wilfulness is this? — I come, I come.

[Knocking.
Who knocks so hard ? whence come you ? what's your

will?
Nurse. [Within.'] Let me come in, and you shall

know my errand ;
I come from lady Juliet.

Fri. Welcome, then.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo ?

Fri. There, on the ground, with his own tears made
drunk.

Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case !

Fri. O woful sympathy !

Piteous predicament !

Nurse. Even so lies she,

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.—
Stand up, stand up ; stand, an you be a man.
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand ;
Why should you fall into so deep an O ?

Rom. Nurse !

Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! — Well, death's the end of
all.

Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet ? How is it with her ?

204 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III.

Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stained the childhood of our joy
With blood removed but little from her own ?
Where is she ? and how doth she ? and what says
My concealed lady1 to our cancelled love?

Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and

weeps ;

And now falls on her bed, and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls ; and then on Romeo cries,
And tnen down falls again.

Rom. As if that name,

Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her ; as that name's cursed hand
Murdered her kinsman. — O, tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge ? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion. [Drawing his sword.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand.

Art thou a man ? Thy form cries out, thou art ;
Thy tears are womanish ; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast.
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man !
Or ill-beseeming beast, in seeming both !
Thou hast amazed me ; by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better tempered.
Hast thou slain Tybalt ? wilt thou slay thyself,
And slay thy lady too, that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st thou on thy birth,2 the heaven, and earth ?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once ; which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie ! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit ;
Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,

1 " My lady, whose being so, together with our marriage which made
her so, is concealed from the world."

2 The lines from Jlliy raWst thou on thy birth, &c., to thy own defence,
ere not in the first copy ; they arc formed on a passage in the poem.

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 205

Digressing from the valor of a man ;
Thy dear love, sworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vowed to cherish ;
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,1
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismembered with thine own defence.2
What, rouse thee, man ! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead ;
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt ; there art thou happy too.
The law, that threatened death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile ; there art thou happy.
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back ;
Happiness courts thee in her best array ;
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her ;
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua ;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. —
Go before, nurse ; commend me to thy lady ;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto.
Romeo is coming.3

Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here all the
night,

1 To understand the force of this allusion, it should be remembered,
that the ancient English soldiers, using match-locks, instead of locks with
flints, as at present, were obliged to carry a lighted match hanging at
their belts, very near to the wooden Jlask in which they carried their
powder.

2 And thou torn to pieces with thine own weapons.

3 Much of this speech has also been added since the first edition.

206 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III.

To hear good counsel. O5 what learning is ! —
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.

Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bade me give you, sir.
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

[Exit Nurse.

Rom. How well my comfort is revived by this !

Fri. Go hence ; good night ! and here stands all

your state ; l

Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day, disguised from hence.
Sojourn in Mantua ; I'll find out your man.
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here.
Give me thy hand ; 'tis late : farewell ; good night.

Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee.
Farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS.

Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I ; — Well, we were born to die.—
'Tis very late ; she'll not come down to-night.
I promise jou, but for your company,
I would have been abed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo.
Madam, good night ; commend me to your daughter.

La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
To-night she's mewed up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate 2 tender
Of my child's love. I think she will be ruled

1 The whole of your fortune depends on this.

2 .Orspcrnlc. ireans only bold, adventurous.

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. ^07

In all respects by me ; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed ;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love ;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next —
But, soft ; what day is this ?

Par. Monday, my lord.

Cap. Monday ? ha ! ha ! Well, Wednesday is too

soon ;

O' Thursday let it be ;— O' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl. —
Will you be ready? Do you like this haste ?
We'll keep no great ado ; — a friend or two. —
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much ;
Therefore wre'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday ?

Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to
morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone : — O' Thursday be it, then. —
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wredding-day. —
Farewell, my lord. — Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me. — It is so very late, that we
May call it early, by and by. — Good night.1 [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Juliet's Chamber.2

Enter ROMEO and JULIET.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day,
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear ;

1 The latter part of this scone is a good deal varied from the first
quarto.

9 The stage direction in the first edition is, " Enter Romeo and Juliet
at a ivindow ; " in the second quarto, " Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft."
They appeared, probably, in the balcony which was erected on the old
English stage.

208 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT ITJ.

Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
Xo nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I.
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.1

Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death ;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye,
"Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads ;
I have more care to stay, than will to go. —
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. —
How is't, my soul ? let's talk ; it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is ; hie hence, be gone, away.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division ; 2
This doth not so, for she divideth us.

1 The quarto, 1597, reads:—

" Then stay awhile, thou shalt not go [so] soon."

The succeeding speech, I think (says Mr. Boswell), is better in the same
copy:—

" Let me stay here, let me be ta'en, and die ;
If thou wilt have it so, I am content.
I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye,
It is the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ;
I'll say it is the nightingale that beats
The vaulty heaven so far above our heads,
And not tho lark, the messenger of morn ;
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so —
What says my love? let's talk, 'tis not yet day."

52 A division, in music, is a variation in melody upon some given funda
mental harmony.

SU. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 209

Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes ; l
O, now I would they had changed voices too !
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up2 to the day.
O, now be gone ; more light and light it grows.

Rom. More light and light ? — more dark and dark
our woes.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Madam !

Jul. Nurse ?

Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber.
The day is broke ; be wary, look about.

[Exit Nurse.

Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

Rom. Farewell, farewell ! one kiss, and I'll descend.

[ROMEO descends.

Jul. Art thou gone so ? my love ! my lord ! my

friend !

I must hear from thee every day i'the hour,
For in a minute there are many days.
O ! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

Jul. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again ?

Rom. I doubt it not ; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God ! I have an ill-divining soul.
Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb.
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.

Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you ;
Dry sorrowr drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu !

[Exit ROMEO.

Jul. O fortune, fortune ! all men call thee fickle :

i The toad having very fine eyes, and the lark very ugly ones, was the
occasion of a common saying, that the toad and the lark had changed eyes.

~ The hunCs up was originally a tune played to wake sportsmen, and
call them together. It was a common burden of hunting-ballads.
VOL. vn. 27

210 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III

Jf thoi.i art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renowned for faith ? Be fickle, fortune ;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.

La. Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?

Jul. Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother ? *
Is she not down so late, or up so early ?
What unaccustomed cause procures l her hither ?

Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet ?

Jul. Madam, I am not well.

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death ?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears ?
An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live ;
Therefore, have done. Some grief shows much of love ;
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the

friend
Which you weep for.

Jul. Feeling so the loss,

I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for

his death,
As that the villain lives which slaughtered him.

o

Jul. What villain, madam ?

La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.
God pardon him ! I do with all my heart ;
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.

La. Cap. That is, because the traitor-murderer lives,

Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
'Would none hut I might venge my cousin's death !

La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou

not;
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, —

1 Procures for brings.

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 211

Where that same banished runagate doth live, —
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught,1
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company ;
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.

Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him — dead —
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vexed : —
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it,
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. — O, how my heart abhors
To hear him named, — and cannot come to him, —
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
Upon his body that hath slaughtered him !

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a

man.
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time.
What are they, I beseech your ladyship ?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father,

child ;

One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
That thou expect'st not, nor I looked not for.

Jul. Madam, in happy time,2 what day is that :*

La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday

morn,

The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county3 Paris, at Saint Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste ; that I must wed
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.

1 Thus the first quarto. The subsequent quartos and the folio, less
intelligibly, read : —

" Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram"

2 A la bonne heure. This phrase was interjected when the hearer was
not so well pleased as the speaker.

3 County, or countie, was the usual term for an earl in ShakspeareV
time. Paris is, in this play, first styled a young earle.

212 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT ill.

I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet ; and when I do, I swear,
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. — These are news indeed !

La. Cap. Here comes your father ; tell him so

yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter CAPULET and Nurse.

Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew ; l
But for the sunset of my brother's son,
It rains downright. —

How now, a conduit, girl ? what, still in tears ?
Evermore showering ? In one little body
Thou counterfeit's! a bark, a sea, a wind.
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears ; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood ; the winds, thy sighs,
Who, — raging with thy tears, and they with them, —
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body. — How now, wife ?
Have you delivered to her our decree ?

La. Cap. Ay, sir ; but she will none, she gives you

thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave !

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife.
How ! will she none ? doth she not give us thanks ?
Is she not proud ? doth she not count her blessed,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul. Not proud, you have ; but thankful, that you

have ;

Proud can I never be of what I hate ;
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

Cap. How now ! how now, chop-logic ! 2 What is
this ?

1 Thus the quarto 1597. The quarto 1599, and the folio, read, " the
m earth doth drizzle dew," which is philosophically true ; and so, perhaps,
' the Poet wrote.

2 Capulet, as Steevens observes, uses this as a nickname. The hyphen

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 213

Proud, — and, I thank you, — and, I thank you not ; —
And yet not proud. — Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion ! out, you baggage !
You tallow-face !

La. Cap. Fie, fie ! what, are you mad ?

Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage ! disobedient

wretch !

I tell thee what, — get thee to church o' Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me ;
My fingers itch. — Wife, we scarce thought us blessed,
That God had sent us but this only child ;
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her.
Out on her, hilding ! ]

Nurse. God in heaven bless her ! —

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom ? Hold your

tongue,
Good prudence ; smatter with your gossips, go.

Nurse. I speak no treason.

Cap. O, God ye good den !

Nurse. May not one speak ?

Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool !

Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

La. Cap. You are too hot.

Cap. God's bread ! it makes me mad. Day, night,
late, early,

is wanting in the old copy. " Choplogyk is he that whan his mayster
rebuketh his servaunt for his defawtes, he will give him xx wordes for
one, or elles he will hydde the devylles paternoster in scylence." — The
xxiiii Orders of Knaves, blk. 1.
1 Base woman.

214 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT III

At home, abroad, alone, in company,

Waking, or sleeping, still mj care hath been

To have her matched ; and having now provided

A gentleman of princely parentage,

Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly trained,

Stuffed, (as they say,) with honorable parts,

Proportioned as one's heart could wish a man, —

And then to have a wretched, puling fool,

A \vhining mammet, in her fortune's tender,

To answer — /'// not wed, — / cannot love,

I am too young — / pray you. pardon me : —

But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you :

Graze where you will, you shall not house with me ;

Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.

Thursday is near ; lay hand on heart, advise ;

An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend ;

An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets,

For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,

Nor what is mine, shall never do thee good.

Trust to't ; bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Exit.

Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away !
Delay this marriage for a month, a week ;
Or, if you do not, make my bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word ;
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit.

Jul. O God ! — O nurse ! how shall this be pre
vented ?

My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven ;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth ? — Comfort me, counsel me. —
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!—
What say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy ?
Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis. Romeo

Is banished ; and all the world to nothing,

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 215

That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you ;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O, he's a lovely gentleman !
Romeo's a dishclout to him ; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green,1 so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first ; or if it did not,
Your first is dead ; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here, and you no use of him.

Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart ?

Nurse. From my soul too ;

Or else beshrew them both.

Jul. Amen !

Nurse. To what ?

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
Go in ; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolved.

Nurse. Marry, I will ; and this is wisely done.

[Exit.

Jul. Ancient damnation ! O most wicked fiend !
Is it more sin — to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised him with above compare
So many thousand times ? — Go, counsellor ;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. —
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy ;
If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit.

1 In The Two Noble Kinsmen, by Fletcher and Shakspeare, we find :—

" oh vouchsafe

With that thy rare green eye," &c.

216 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT IV.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Friar Laurence's Cell

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS.

FrL On Thursday, sir ? The time is very short.

Par. My father Capulet will have it so ;
And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.1

Fri. You say you do not know the lady's mind :
Uneven is the course ; I like it not.

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talked of love ;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway ;
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears ;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slowed.2

[Aside
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET.

Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife !
Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may-be, must be, love, on Thursday

next.

Jul. What must be, shall be.

Fri. That's a certain text.

Par. Come you to make confession to this father ?

1 The meaning of Paris is, there is nothing of slowness in me, to induce
me to slacken or abate his haste ; but the words the Poet has given him
import the reverse. The first edition reads,

"And I am nothing slack to slow his haste."

2 To slow and toforeslow wore anciently in common use as verbs.

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET.

Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.

Par. Do not deny to him that you love me.

Jul. I will confess to you that I love him.

Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me.

Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

Jul. The tears have got small victory by that ;
For it was bad enough before their spite.

Par. Thou wrongest it, more than tears, with that
report.

Jul. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth ;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slandered it.

Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. —
Are you at leisure, holy father, now ;
Or shall I come to you at evening-mass ? l

Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion. —
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you ;
Till then, adieu ! and keep this holy kiss.

[Exit PARIS.

Jul. O, shut the door ! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me ; past hope, past cure, past help !

Fri. Ah, Juliet, 1 already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits.
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.

Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hcar'st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
God joined my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands ;
And ere this hand, by thce to Romeo sealed,
Shall be the label to another deed,2

1 Juliet means vespers ; there is no such thing as evening-mass.

2 The seals of deeds formerly were appended on distinct slips or labels
affixed to the deed.

VOL. vii. 28

213 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT IV

Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both.
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
Give me some present counsel ; or, behold
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire ; 1 arbitrating that
Which the commission 2 of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honor bring.
Be not so long to speak ; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

Fri. Hold, daughter ; I do spy a kind of hope
Which craves as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hadst the strength of will to slay thyself;
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it ;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.

Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways ; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are ; chain me with roaring bears ,
Or hide me nightly3 in a charnel house,
O'er covered quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless-skulls ;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble,
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.4

1 i. c. shall decide the struggle between me and my distress.

2 Commission may be here used for authority.

3 The quarto 1597 reads :—

" Or chain me to some steepy mountain's top,
Where roaring bears and savage lions roam."

In the text, the quarto of 1599 is followed, except that it has " or hide,
me nightly."

4 Thus the quarto 1599 and the folio: the quarto 1597 reads: —

« To keep myself a faithful unstained wife
To my dear lord, my dearest Romeo." — Boswell.

SC. I.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 219

Fri. Hold, then ; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris. Wednesday is to-morrow ;
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone ;
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When, presently, through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humor, [which shall seize
Each vital spirit ;] l for no pulse shall keep
His natural progress, but surcease [to beat:] 1
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st ;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes ; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life ;
Each part deprived of supple government,
Shall, stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death :
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt remain full two-and-forty hours,2
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead :
Then (as the manner of our country is)
In thy best robes uncovered on the bier,3
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift ;
And hither shall he come ; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame ;

1 Not in the folio of 1623.

2 Instead of the remainder of this scene, the quarto 1597 has only
these four lines : —

" And when thou art laid in thy kindred's vault,
I'll send in haste to Mantua to thy lord ;
And he shall come and take thee from thy grave.
Jul. Friar, I go ; be sure thou send for my dear Romeo."

3 The Italian custom here alluded to, of carrying the dead body to the
grave richly dressed, and with the face uncovered ( which is not mentioned
by Painter), Shakspeare found particularly described in the Tragical!
Hy story of Rome us and Juliet

220 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT IV.

If no unconstant toy,1 nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valor in the acting it.

JuL Give me, give me ! O, tell me not of fear.

Fri. Hold ; get you gone ; be strong and prosperous
In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

JuL Love, give me strength! and strength shall

help afford.
Farewell, dear father ! [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Nurse, and Servants.

Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ. —

[Exit Servant.
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir ; for I'll try if
they can lick their fingers.

Cap. How canst thou try them so ?

2 Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick
his own fingers ; therefore he that cannot lick his
fingers, goes not with me.

Cap. Go, begone. — [Exit Servant.

We shall be much unfurnished for this time. —
What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence ?

Nurse. Ay, forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her ;
A peevish, self-willed harlotry it is.

Enter JULIET.

Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift2 with

merry look.
Cap. How now, my headstrong? where have you

been gadding ?

1 If no fickle freak, no light caprice, no change of fancy, hinder tha
performance.

2 i. e. confession.

SC. II.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 221

Jul. Where I have learned me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you, and your behests ; and am enjoined
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon. — Pardon, I beseech you !
Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.

Cap. Send for the county ; go tell him of this ;
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.

Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell ;
And gave him what becomed J love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.

Cap. Why, I am glad on't ; this is well, — stand up ;
This is as't should be. — Let me see the county ;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. —
Now, afore God, this reverend, holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.2

Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow ?

La. Cap. No, not till Thursday ; there is time
enough.

Cap. Go, nurse, go with her ; — we'll to church to
morrow. [Exeunt JULIET and Nurse.

La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision ;
Tis now near night.

Cap. Tush ! I will stir about,

And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife.
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her ;
I'll not to bed to-night ; — let me alone ;
I'll play the housewife for this once. — What, ho!
They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
To county Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow ; my heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaimed.

[Exeunt.

1 Becomed for becoming ; one participle for another ; a frequent practice
with Shakspeare.

2 Thus the folio and the quartos 1599 and 1609. The oldest quarto
reads, perhaps more grammatically : —

" All our whole city is much bound unto,"

ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT IV.

SCENE III. Juliet's Chamber.

Enter JULIET and Nurse.

Jul. Ay, those attires are best. — But, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night ;
For I have need of many orisons
To move the Heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.

Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. What, are you busy ? Do you need my
help ?

Jul. No, madam ; we have culled such necessaries
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow ;
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this night sit up with you ;
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business.

La. Cap. Good night !

Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.

[Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse.

Jul. Farewell ! l — God knows when we shall meet

again.

I have a faint, cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life ;
I'll call them back again to comfort me. —
Nurse ! — What should she do here ?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone. —
Come, phial. —

What if this mixture do not work at all ?
Must I of force be married to the county ? —
No, no ; — this shall forbid it ; — lie thou there. —

[Laying down a dagger.3

1 This speech received considerable additions after the first copy was
published.

2 This stage direction has been supplied by the modern editions. The
quarto of 1597 reads :— " Knife, lie thou there."

" Daggers, or, as they were more commonly called, knives (says Mr.

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 223

What if it be a poison, which the friar

Subtly hath ministered to have me dead ;

Lest in this marriage he should be dishonored,

Because he married me before to Romeo ?

I fear it is ; and yet, methinks, it should not,

For he hath still been tried a holy man ;

I will not entertain so bad a thought. —

How if, when I am laid into the tomb,

I wake before the time that Romeo

Come to redeem me? There's a fearful point!

Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,

To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,

And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes ?

Or, if I live, is it not very like,

The horrible conceit of death and night,

Together with the terror of the place, —

As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,

Where, for these many hundred years, the bones

Of all my buried ancestors are packed ;

Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,

Lies festering l in his shroud ; where, as they say,

At some hours in the night spirits resort ; —

Alack, alack ! is it not like, that I,

So early waking, — what with loathsome smells,

And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,

That living mortals, hearing them, run mad ; 2 —

O ! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,

Environed with all these hideous fears ?

And madly play with my forefathers' joints ?

And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud ?

And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,

As with a club, dash out my desperate brains ?

O, look ! methinks I see my cousin's ghost

Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body

Gifford), were worn at all times by every woman in England ; whether
they were so worn in Italy, Shakspeare, I believe, never inquired, and I
cannot tell." — Works of Ben Jonson, vol. v. p. 221.

1 To fester is to corrupt.

2 The mamlrake (says Thomas Newton in his Herbal) has been idly
represented as " a creature having life."

224 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT I\

Upon a rapier's point. — Stay, Tybalt, stay! —
Romeo, I come ! this do I drink to thee.

[She throws herself on the bed

SCENE IV. Capulet's Hall.

Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.

La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more

spices, nurse.

Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the
pastry.1 [Exit Nurse.

Enter CAPULET.

Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir ! the second cock hath

crowed,

The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock. —
Look to the baked meats, good Angelica :
Spare not for cost.

La. Cap. Go, go, you cot-quean,2 go,

Get you to bed ; 'faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching.3

Cap. No, not. a whit ; what ! I have watched ere

now
All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt 4 in your

time ;
But I will watch you from such watching now.

[Exit LADY CAPULET.

Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood ! — Now, fellow,
What's there ?

1 The room where the pastry was made.

2 A man that troubles himself with women's affairs — probably cook-
quean.

3 This speech, which in the old copies is attributed to the nurse, should
surely be given to lady Capulet.

4 The animal called the mouse-hunt is the weasel. The intrigues of
this animal, like those of the cat kind, are usually carried on in the night.

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 225

Enter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets.

Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.

Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv.] —

Sirrah, fetch drier logs ;
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit.

Cap. 'Mass, and well said ; a merry whoreson ! ha,
Thou shalt be loggerhead. — Good faith, 'tis day ;
The county will be here with music straight.

[Music within.

For so he said he would. I hear him near. —
Nurse ! — Wife ! — what, ho ; — what, nurse, I say !

Enter Nurse.

Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up ;
I'll go and chat with Paris. — Hie, make haste,
Make haste ! the bridegroom he is come already.
Make haste, I say ! [Exeunt.

SCENE V. Juliet's Chamber ; JULIET on the bed.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Mistress ! — what, mistress ! — Juliet ! — fast, I

warrant her, she. —

Why, lamb ! why, lady ; — fie, you slug-a-bed ! —
Why, love, I say! — madam! sweet-heart! — why,

bride !

What, not a word ? — You take your pennyworths now;
Sleep for a week ; for the next night, I warrant,
The county Paris hath set up his rest,1

1 Nashe, in his Terrors of the Night, quibbles in the same manner on
this expression : — " You that are married and have wives of your owne,
and yet hold too nere friendship with your neighbors, set up your rests,
that the night will be an ill neighbor to your rest, and that you shall have
as little peace of minde as the rest."
VOL. vii. 29

226 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT IV.

That you shall rest but little. — God forgive me,

(Marry and amen !) how sound is she asleep !

I needs must wake her. — Madam, madam, madam !

Ay, let the county take you in your bed ;

He'll fright you up, in faith. — Will it not be ?

What, amxse rJ ': and in your clothes ! and down again f

I must needs wake )ou. La'dy ! lady! lady!

Alas ! alas ! — Help ! help ! my lady's dead ! —

O, well-a-day, that ever I was born ! —

Some aqua-vitae, ho ! — my lord ! my lady !

Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. What noise is here ?

Nurse. O lamentable day !

La. Cap. What is the matter ?

Nurse. Look, look ! O heavy day !

La. Cap. O me, O me ! — my child, my only life,
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! —
Help, help ! — call help.

Enter CAPULET.

Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth ; her lord is come.

Nurse. She's dead, deceased, she's dead ; alack the
day!

La. Cap. Alack the day ! she's dead, she's dead,
she's dead.

Cap. Ha! let me see her. — Out, alas! she's cold;
Her blood is settled ; and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated.
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field !
Accursed time ! unfortunate old man.1

Nurse. O lamentable day !

La. Cap. O woful time !

Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make

me wail,
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.

i This line is taken from the first quarto, 1597.

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 227

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians.

Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church ?

Cap. Ready to go, but never to return.
O son, the night before thy wedding-day
Hath death lain with thy bride. — See, there she lies,
Flower as she was. defloured by him.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir ;
My daughter he hath wedded ! I will die,
And leave him all ; life leaving, all is death's.

Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,1
And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La. Cap. Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful

day!

Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw
In lasting labor of his pilgrimage !
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catched it from my sight.

Nurse. O woe ! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day ! most woful day,
That ever, ever I did yet behold !
O day ! O day ! O day ! O hateful day !
Never was seen so black a day as this.
O woful day, O woful day !

Par, Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain !
Most detestable death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown ! —
O love ! O life ! — not life, but love in death !

Cap. Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed '
Uncomfortable time ! why cam'st thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity ? —

1 The quarto of 1597 continues the speech of Paris thus : —
" And doth it now present such prodigies ?
Accurst, unhappy, miserable man,
Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am,
Bom to the world to be a slave in it :
Distrest, remediless, unfortunate.

Oh, heavens ! Oh, nature ! wherefore did you make me
To live so vile, so wretched, as I shall ? "

: m of l.~)'K) is her exclama-

arlo.

228 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT IV

O child ! O child ! — my soul, and not my child !
Dead art thou, dead ! — alack ! my child is dead ;
And, with my child, my joys are buried!

Fri. Peace, ho, for shame ! confusion's cure lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid ; now Heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid.
Your part in her you could not keep from death ;
But Heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was — her promotion ;
For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanced ;
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced,
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well.
She's not well married, that lives married long ;
But she's best married, that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse ; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church.
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,1
Turn from their office to black funeral ;
Our instruments, to melancholy bells ;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast ;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. Sir, go you in, — and, madam, go with him ;
And go, sir Paris ; — every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
The Heavens do lower upon you, for some ill ;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.

[Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS,
and Friar.

1 Instead of this and the following speeches, the first quarto has only a
couplet: —

" Let it be so ; come, woful sorrow-mates,

Let us together taste this bitter fate."
The enlarged text is formed upon the poem.

SC. V.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 229

1 Mas. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be
gone.

Nurse. Honest, good fellows, ah, put up ; put up $
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

[Exit Nurse.

1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

Enter PETER.

Pet. Musicians, O musicians, Heart's ease, heart's
case ; O, an you will have me live, play — heart's ease.

1 Mus. Why heart's ease ?

Pet. O musicians, because my heart itself plays —
My heart is full of woe.1 O, play me some merry dump,2
to comfort me.

2 Mus. Not a dump we ; 'tis no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then ?

Mus. No.

Pet. I will then give it you soundly.

1 Mus. What will you give us ?

Pet. No money, on my faith ; but the gleek ;3 I will
give you the minstrel.

1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature.

Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger
on your pate. I will carry no crotchets; I'll re you,
I'll fa you. Do you note me ?

1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us.

2 Mus. 'Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out
your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit ; 1 will dry-beat

i This is the burden of the first stanza of A Pleasant New Ballad of
Two Lovers : —

" Hey hoe ! my heart is full of woe."

% A dump was formerly the received term for a grave or melancholy
strain in music, vocal or instrumental. It also signified a kind of poetical
elegy. A merry dump is no doubt a purposed absurdity put into the
mouth of master Peter.

3 A pun is here intended. A gleekman, or gligman, is a minstrel. To
give the gleek, meant, also, to pass a jest upon a person, to make him appear
ridiculous ; a gleek being a jest or scoff.

230 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT IV

you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger.—
Answer me like men :

When griping grief the heart doth wound,

And doleful dumps the mind oppress.
Then music, with her silver sound* —

Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver sound?
What say you, Simon Catling?2

1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
Pet. Pratest ! What say you, Hugh Rebeck ?

2 Mus. I say — silver sound, because musicians sound
for silver.

Pet. Pratest too ! — What say you, James Soundpost ?

3 Mus. 'Faith, 1 know not what to say.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy ! you are the singer ; I will
say for you. It is — music with her silver sound, because
musicians have seldom gold for sounding : —

Then music, with her silver sound,
With speedy help doth lend redress.

[Exit, singing.

1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same 1

2 Mus. Hang him, Jack ! Come, we'll in here ;
tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.

1 This is part of a song by Richard Edwards, to be found in the Pnradice
of Dainty Devices, fol. 31, b. Another copy of this song is to be found
in Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.

2 This worthy takes his name from a small lutestring made of catgut
his companion, the fiddler, from an instrument of the same name, men
tioned by many of our old writers, and recorded by Milton as an instru
ment of mirth.

SC. l.J ROMEO AND JULIET. 231

ACT V.

SCENE I. Mantua. A Street.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,1
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne ;
And, all this day, an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamed my lady came and found me dead,
(Strange dream ! that gives a dead man leave to think,)
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
That I revived, and was an emperor.
Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possessed,
When but love's shadows are so rich in *™r '

Enter BALTHASAR.

News from Verona ! — How now, Balthasar ?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady ? Is myr father well ?
How doth my Juliet ? That I ask again ;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

BaL Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives ;
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it you ;
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

Rom. Is it. even so ? Then I defy you, stars ! —

1 Thus the first quarto. The folio reads : —

"If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep."

The sense appears to be, If I may repose any confidence in the flattering
visions of the night. Otway reads : —

"If I may trust the flattery of sleep."

232 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT V.

Thou know'st my lodging ; get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses ; I will hence to-night.

Bal. Pardon me, sir, 1 will not leave you thus.
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.

Rom. Tush, thou art deceived ;

Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar ?

Bal. No, my good lord.

Rom. No matter ; get thee gone,

And hire those horses ; I'll be with thee straight.

[Exit BALTHASAR.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means. — O mischief! thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men !
I do remember an apothecary, —
Arid hereabouts he dwrells, — whom late I noted
In tattered weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples ; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones ;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuffed, and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes ; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green, earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scattered to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said—
And if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but forerun my need ;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house ;
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. —
What, ho ! apothecary.

Enter Apothecary.

Ap. Who calls so loud ?

Rom. Come hither, man. — I see that thou art poor ;

SC. II.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 233

Hold, there is forty ducats ; let me have

A dram of poison ; such soon-speeding gear

As will disperse itself through all the veins,

That the life-weary taker may fall dead ;

And that the trunk may be discharged of breath

As violently, as hasty powder fired

Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have ; but Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die ? Famine is in thy cheeks ;
Need and oppression stareth in thy eyes ; l
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery;
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.
The world affords no law to make thee rich ;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.

Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.

Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.

Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell ; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
Come, cordial, and not poison ; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Friar Laurence's Cell

Enter FRIAR JOHN.
John. Holy Franciscan friar ! brother, ho !

i The quarto of 1597 reads :—

" Upon thy back hangs ragged miserie,

And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks."
The quartos of 1599 and 1609 :—

" Need and oppression starvdh in thy eyes."
VOL. VII. 30

234 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT V

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE.

Lau. This same should be the voice of friar John. —
Welcome from Mantua ; what says Romeo ?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order to associate me,1
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Sealed up the doors, and would not let us forth ;
So that my speed to Mantua there was stayed.

Lau. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo ?

John. I could not send it, — here it is again, —
Nor get a messenger to bring, it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Lau. Unhappy fortune ! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice,2 but full of charge,
Of dear import ; and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence ;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Exit.

Lau. Now must I to the monument alone ;
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake.3
She will beshrew me much, that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents ;
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come ;
Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb ! [Exit.

1 Each friar had always a companion assigned him by the superior,
•when he asked leave to go out.

2 i. e. was not wantonly written on a trivial or idle matter.

3 Instead of this line, and the concluding1 part of the speech, the first
quarto reads only : —

" Lest that the lady should before 1 come
Be wak'd from slcepo, I will hye
To free her from that tomb of miserie."

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 233

SCENE III. A Church-yard; in it a Monument
belonging to the Capulets.

Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing flowers and a

torch.

Par. Give me my torch, boy. Hence, and stand

aloof; —

Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground ;
So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,)
But thou shalt hear it ; whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard ; yet I will adventure. [Retires.

Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal

bed.

Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity ;
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,1
Accept this latest favor at my hands ;
That living honored thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb !

[The boy whistles.

The boy gives warning, something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites ?
What, with a torch ! — muffle me, night, a while.

[Retires

1 The folio has these lines : —

" Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed 1 strew ;

O wo ! thy canopy is dust and stones,
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew ;

Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans ;
The obsequies that I for thee will keep
Nightly shall be, to strew thy grave and weep."

In the text, the seven lines are printed as they appear in the quarto
of 1597.

236 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT V.

Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch, mat
tock, frc.

Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching-iron.
Hold, take this letter ; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to mj lord and father.
Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge thee,
Whatever thou hear'st or see'st, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is, partly, to behold my lady's face ;
But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring ; a ring that I must use
In dear * employment ; therefore hence, be gone ; —
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By Heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs.
The time and my intents are savage-wild ;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.

Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship. — Take

thou that ;
Live, and be prosperous ; and farewell, good fellow.

Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout ;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.

Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Breaking open the door of the monument.
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food !

Par. This is that banished, haughty Montague,
That murdered my love's cousin ; — with which grief,
It is supposed the fair creature died, —
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. —

[Advances.

1 That is, in action of importance. The sense of the word dear has
been explained.

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 237

Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague ;
Can vengeance be pursued further than death ?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee.
Obey, and go with me ; for thou must die.

Rom. I must, indeed ; and therefore came I hither. —
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man ;
Fly hence and leave me ; — think upon these gone ;
Let them affright thee. — I beseech thee, youth,
Heap not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. — O, be gone !
By Heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither armed against myself.
Stay not ; begone ; — live, and hereafter say —
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.

Par. I do defy thy conjurations,1
And do attach thee as a felon here.

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me ? Then have at thee,
boy. [They fight.

Page. O Lord ! they fight. I will go call the watch.

[Exit Page

Par. O, I am slain ! [ Falls.'] — If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.

Rom. In faith, I will. — Let me peruse this face ;
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris.
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode ? I think
He told me Paris should have married Juliet.
Said he not so ? or did I dream it so ?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so ? — O, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book !
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave ; —
A grave ? O, no ; a lantern,2 slaughtered youth ;

1 I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. depart. So Constance,
in King John, says : —

" No, I defy all counsel, all redress."

2 A lantern may here signify what in ancient records is styled lanter-
nium, i. e. a spacious round or octagonal turret, full of windows, by means
of which cathedrals and sometimes halls are illuminated.

A presence is a public room, which is, at times, the presence-chamber of
a sovereign.

238 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT V

For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
Tliis vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interred.

[Laying PARIS in the monument.
How oft, when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry! which their keepers call
A lightning before death ; O, how may 1 1
Call this a lightning ? — O my love ! my wife !
Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
Thou art not conquered ; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there. —
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favor can I do to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy ?
Forgive me, cousin ! — Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair ? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous ;
And that the lean, abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour ?
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee ;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again ; here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids ; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;2
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. — Eyes, look your last!
Arms, tike your last embrace ! and lips, O, you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! —
Come, bitter conduct,3 come, unsavory guide !
Hiou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy seasick, weary bark !
Here's to my love! [Drinks.'] — O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die. [Dies.

> Tiie lir.st quarto reads, " Bid how," &c. This idea very frequently
occur;? in our old dramas.
2 See note ', p. 225. -j Conduct for conductor.

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 239

Enter, at the other end of the church-yard, FRIAR
LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade.

Fri. Saint Francis be my speed ! how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves ! : — Who's there ?
Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead ?

BaL Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you
well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you ! Tell me, good my friend,
What torch is yond' that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless skulls ? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.

BaL It doth so, holy sir ; and there's my master,
One that you love.

Fri. Who is it ?

BaL Romeo.

Fri. How long hath he been there ?

BaL Full half an hour.

Fri. Go with me to the vault.

BaL I dare not, sir.

My master knows not but I am gone hence ;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.

Fri. Stay, then, I'll go alone. — Fear comes upon me ;
O, much I fear some ill, unlucky thing.

BaL As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamed my master and another fought,2
And that my master slew him.

Fri. Romeo ? [Advances.

Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ? —
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolored by this place of peace ?

[Enters the monument.
Romeo ! O, pale ! — Who else ? what, Paris too ?

1 This accident was reckoned ominous.

2 This was one of the touches of nature that would liav

(if any painter less att.enti.vo to it than Su :
while he is under the rm

i ;.-red from i'r, like a dr

240 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT V.

And steeped in blood ! Ah, what an unkind hour

Is guilty of this lamentable chance ! —

The lady stirs. [ JULIET wakes, and stirs.

Jul. O comfortable friar ! where is my lord ?
I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am. — Where is my Romeo?

[Noise within.

Fri. I hear some noise. — Lady, come from that nes..
Of death, contagion, arid unnatural sleep ;
A greater power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents ; come, come away.
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead ;
And Paris too ; come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns.
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming ;
Come, go, good Juliet ! — [Noise again.] I dare stay
no longer. [Exit.

Jul. Go, get thee fience, for I will not away.

What's here ? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?

Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. —

O churl ! drink all ; and leave no friendly drop,

To help me after ? — I will kiss thy lips ;

Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,

To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.

Thy lips are warm !

1 Watch. [Within.'] Lead, boy.— Which way ?

Jul. Yea, noise ? — then I'll be brief. — O happy

dagger ! [Snatching ROMEO'S dagger.

This is thy sheath. [Stabs herself.] There rust, and let

me die.1 [Falls on ROMEO'S body, and dies.

Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS.

Page. This is the place ; there, where the torch doth

burn.
1 Watch. The ground is bloody ; search about the

church-yard :

i Thus the quarto of 1599. That of 1597 reads :—

" Ay, noise ? then must I be resolute,
Oh, happy dagger! thou shalt end my fear;
Rest in my bosom : thus I come to thee."

SC. 111.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 241

Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach.

[Exeunt some.

Pitiful sight ! here lies the county slain ;
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain these two days buried. —
Go, tell the prince, — run to the Capulets, —
Raise up the Montagues, — some others search ; —

[Exeunt other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie ;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHAZAR.

2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man ; we found him in

the church-yard.
1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come

hither.

Enter another Watchman, with FRIAR LAURENCE.

3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and

weeps.

We took this mattock and this spade from him,
As he wras coming from this church-yard side.

1 Watch. A great suspicion ; stay the friar too.

Enter 'he Prince and Attendants.

Prince. What misad/cntnre is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's rest?

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others.

Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

La. Cap. The people in the street cry — Romeo,
Some — Juliet, and some — Paris; and all run,
With open outcry, toward our monument.

Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our ears ?

1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris slain ;

VOL. VII. 31

242 ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT V

And Ro;neo dead ; and Juliet, dead before,
Warm, and new killed.

Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul mur
der comes.

1 Wo tcli. Here is a friar, and slaughtered Romeo's

man ;

With instruments upon them, fit to open
These dead men's tombs.

Cap O Heavens ! — O wife ! look how our daugh

ter bleeds !

This dagger hath mista'en, — for lo ! his house
Is empty on the back of Montague, —
And is missheathed in my daughter's bosom.1

La. Cap. O me ! this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

Enter MONTAGUE and others.

Prince. Come, Montague ; for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir more early down.

Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night ; 2
Grief of my son's exile hath stopped her breath.
What further woe conspires against mine age ?

Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.

Mon. O thou untaught ! what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave ?

Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these Ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true descent ;
And then will I be general of y^ur woes,
And lead you even to death. Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience. —
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place

1 The words, " for lo ! his house is empty on the back of Montague,"
are to be considered parenthetical. It appears that the dagger was an

ciently worn behind /

2 After this line. 1':e ovnrt.o of ]f>n7 p

" Ar ''••'f"ise(] i

SC. III.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 243

Doth make against me, of this direful murder ;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned and myself excused.

Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know in
this.

Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Is not so long- as is a tedious tale.

O

Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet ;
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife.
I married them ; and their stolen marriage-day
Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death
Banished the new-made bridegroom from this city ;
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
You — to remove that siege of grief from her —
Betrothed, and would have married her perforce,
To county Paris. — Then comes she to me ;
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutored by my art,
A sleeping potion ; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of death ; meantime I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrowed grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my letter, friar John,
Was stayed by accident ; and yesternight
Returned my letter back. Then all alone
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault ;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.
But, when I came, (some minute ere the time
Of her awakening,) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead.
She wakes ; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of Heaven with patience.
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb ;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,

ROMEO AND JULIET. [ACT V.

But (as it seems) did violence on herself.
All this I know ; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy. And, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigor of severest law.

Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.
Where's Romeo's man ? what can he say in this ?

Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death;
And then in post he came from Mantua,
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bade me give his father ;
And threatened me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.

Prince. Give me the letter ; I will look on it. —
Where is the county's page, that raised the watch ?
Sirrah, what made your master in this place ?

Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's

grave ;

And bade me stand aloof, and so I did.
Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And, by and by, my master drew on him ;
And then I ran away to call the watch.

Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death ;
And here he writes — that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. —
Where be these enemies ? Capulet ! Montague ! —
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That Heaven finds means to kill your joys with love '
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen ] ; — all are punished.

1 Mercutio and Paris. Mcrcutio is expressly called the prince's
kinsman in Act iii. Sc. 4 ; and that Paris was also the prince's kinsman,
may be inferred from the following passages : — Capulet, speaking of the
count, in the fourth act, describes him as " a gentleman of princely par
entage ; " and after he is killed, Romeo say? : —

" Let me peruse this face ;

Mercutid's kinsman, noble county Paris."

SC. 111.] ROMEO AND JULIET. 245

Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand.
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

Mon. But I can give thee more.

For I will raise her statue in pure gold ;
That, while Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at such rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie ;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity !

Prince. A glooming1 peace this morning with it

brings ;

The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things ;
Some shall be pardoned, and some punished.2
For never was a story of more woe,
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.3 [Exeunt.

1 The quarto of 1597 reads, " A gloomy peace." To gloom is an
ancient verb, used by Spenser and other old writers.

2 This line has reference to the poem from which the fable is taken ;
in which the nurse is banished for concealing the marriage ; Romeo's
servant set at liberty, because he had only acted in obedience to his mas
ter's orders ; the apothecary is hanged ; while friar Laurence was
permitted to retire to a hermitage near Verona, where he ended his life
in penitence and tranquillity.

3 Shakspeare, in his revision of this play, has not effected the alteration
by introducing any new incidents, but merely by adding to the length of
the scenes.

246

THIS play is one of the most pleasing of our Author's performances.
The scenes are busy and various, the incidents numerous and important,
the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action carried
on with such probability, at least with such congruity to popular opinions,
as tragedy requires.

Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to exhibit the conver
sation of gentlemen, to represent the airy sprightliness of juvenile elegance.
Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of a
declaration made by Shakspeare, that he was obliged to kill Mercutio in
the third .Act, lest he should have been killed by him. Yet he thinks him wo
such formidable person, but that he might have lived through the play and
died in his bed, without danger to the Poet. Dryden well knew, had he
been in quest of truth, in a pointed sentence, that more regard is com
monly had to the words than the thought, and that it is very seldom to
be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, gayety, and courage, will
always procure him friends that wish him a longer life ; but his death is
not precipitated ; he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction
of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakspeare to have continued
his existence, though some of his sallies are, perhaps, out of the reach of
Dryden ; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to
humor, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime.

The nurse is one of the characters in which the Author delighted.
He has, with great subtilty of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious
and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest

His comic scenes are happily wrought ; but his pathetic strains are
always polluted with some unexpected depravations.* His persons,
however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable
conceit. JOHNSON.

* A. W. Schlegel has answered this remark at length, in a detailed criticism upon this
tragedy, published in the Norm, a journal conducted by Schiller in 1794 — 1795, aiid made
accessible to the English reader in Olfier's Literary Miscellany, Part I. In his Lectures on
Dramatic Literature (vol. ii. p. 135, Eng. translation) will be found some further sensible
remarks upon the " conceits " here stigmatized. It should be remembered that playing on
words was a very favorite species of wit combat with our ancestors. " With children, as
well as nations of the most simple manners, a great inclination to playing on word? is often
displayed [they cannot therefore be both pur.rilpand unnatural ; if the first charge is founded,
the second cannot be so]. In Homer we find several examples; the Buoks of Moses, the
oldest written memorial of the primitive world, are, it is well known, full of them. On the
other hand, poets of a very cultivated taste, or orators like Cicero, have delighted in them.
Whoever, in Richard the Second, is disgusted with the affecting play of words of the nying
John of Gaunt, on his own name, let him remember that the same thing occurs in the Ajax
of Sophocles."

247

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

THE original story on which this play is founded may be found in
Saxo Grammaticus, the Danish historian. From thence Belleforest
adopted it in his collection of novels, in seven volumes, which he began
in 1564, and continued to publish through succeeding years. It was
from Belleforest that the old black letter prose " Hystorie of Hamblet "
was translated; the earliest edition of which, known to the commenta
tors, was dated in 1608 ; but it is supposed that there were earlier im
pressions.

The following passage is found in an Epistle, by Thomas Nashe,
prefixed to Greene's Arcadia, which was published in 1589: — "I will
turn back to my first text of studies of delight, and talk a little in friend
ship with a few of our rival translators. It is a common practice now-
a-days, among a sort of shifting companions, that runne through every
art, and thrive by none, to leave the trade of Noverint [i. e. the law],
w hereunto they were born, arid busie themselves with the endeavours of
art, that could scarcely latinize their neck-verse, if they should have
neede ; yet English Seneca, read by candle-light, yeelds many good sen
tences, as Bloud is a beggar, and so forth : and if you entreat him faire
in a frosty morning, he will arFoord you whole Hamlets, I should say,
Handfuls of tragical speeches. But O grief! Tempus edax rerum —
what is it that will last always ? The sea exhaled by drops will in con
tinuance be drie ; and Seneca, let bloud line by line, and page by
page, at length must needs die to our stage."

It is manifest, from this passage, that some play on the story of Ham
let had been exhibited before the year 1589. Malone thinks that it was
not Shakspeare's drama, but an elder performance, on which, with the
aid of the old prose History of Hamblet, his tragedy was formed.

In a tract, entitled "Wits Miserie, or the World's Madnesse, discover
ing the incarnate Devils of the Age," published by Thomas Lodge, in
1596, one of the devils is said to be " a foule lubber, and looks as pale as
the vizard of the ghost, who cried so miserably at the theatre, Hamlet,
revenge" But it is supposed that this also may refer to an elder per
formance.

248 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.

Dr. Percy possessed a copy of Speght's edition of Chaucer, which had
been Gabriel Harvey's, who had written his name and the date, 1598,
both at the beginning and end of the volume, and many remarks in the
intermediate leaves ; among which are these words : — " The younger
sort take much delight in Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis ; but his
Lucrece, and his tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke, have it in
them to please the wiser sort." Malone doubts whether this was written
in 1598, because translated Tasso is named in another note ; but it is
not necessary that the allusion should be to Fairfax's translation, which
was not printed till 1600 : it may refer to the version of the first five
books of the Jerusalem, published by R. C[arew]. in 1594.

We may, therefore, safely place the date of the first composition of
Hamlet at least as early as 1597 ; and, for reasons adduced by Mr.
George Chalmers, we may presume that it was revised, and the additions
made to it in the year 1600.

The first entry on the Stationers' books is by James Roberts, July
26, 1602 ; and a copy of the play in its first state, printed for N. L. and
John Trundell, in 1603, has recently been discovered. As in the case
of the earliest impressions of Romeo and Juliet, and the Merry Wives of
Windsor, this edition of Hamlet appears to have been either printed
from an imperfect manuscript of the prompt books, or the playhouse
copy, or stolen from the Author's papers. It is next to impossible that it
can have been taken down during the representation, as some have sup
posed was the case with the other two plays.

The variations of this early copy from the play of Hamlet, in its im
proved state, are too numerous and striking to admit a doubt of the play
having been subsequently revised, amplified, and altered by the Poet.
There are even some variations in the plot ; the principal of which are,
that Horatio announces to the queen, Hamlet's unexpected return from his
voyage to England ; and that the queen is expressly declared to be in
nocent of any participation in the murder of Hamlet's father, and privy
to his intention of revenging his death. There are also some few lines
and passages which do not appear in the revised copy. The principal
variations are noticed in the course of the notes.*

It again issued from the press in 1604, in its corrected and amended
state, and in the title-page is stated to be "newly imprinted, and enlarged
to almost as much again as it was, according to the true and perfect
copy." From these words, Malone had drawn the natural conclusion,
that a former less perfect copy had issued from the press ; but his star
was not propitious ; he never saw it. Though it is said to have formed
part of the collection of sir Thomas Hanmer, it only came to light at the
commencement of the present year [1825] ; too late, alas ! even to gratify
the enthusiasm of his zealous friend, that worthy man, James Boswell ;

* There are some singular variations in the names of the Dramatis Personrc. Coramlis
laid Montana are the names given to the Polojnus&nd Reynaldo of the revised play ; for Roscn-
er-anti and Guildenstern, we have Rosscncraft and Gilderstone ; and Ogric is merely designated
a Braggart Gentleman.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 249

upon whom devolved the office of giving to the world the accumulated
labors of Malone's latter years, devoted to the illustration of Shakspeaje.

The character of Hamlet has been frequently discussed, and with a
variety of contradictory opinions. Johnson and Steevens have made
severe animadversions upon some parts of his conduct A celebrated
writer of Germany has very skilfully pointed out the cause of the de
fects in Hamlet's character, which unfit him for the dreadful office to
which he is called. "It is clear to me (says Goethe) that Shakspeare's
intention was to exhibit the effects of a great action, imposed as a
duty upon a mind too feeble for its accomplishment In this sense I find
me character consistent throughout. Here is an oak planted in a china
vase, proper to receive only the most delicate flowers. The roots strike
out, and the vessel flies to pieces. A pure, noble, highly moral disposi
tion, but without that energy of soul which constitutes the hero, sinka
under a load which it can neither support nor resolve to abandon alto
gether. All his obligations are sacred to him ; but this alone is above
his powers! An impossibility is required at his hands ; not an impossi
bility in itself, but that which is so to him. Observe how he shifts, turns,
hesitates, advances, and recedes! how he is continually reminded and
reminding himself of his great commission ! which he, nevertheless, in
the end, seems almost entirely to lose sight of; and this without ever
recovering his former tranquillity."*

Dr. Akenside suggested that the madness of Hamlet is not alto
gether feigned; and the notion has of late been revived. Dr. Ferriar, in
his Essay towards a Theory of Apparitions, has termed the state of mind
which Shakspeare exhibits to us in Hamlet, — as the consequence of con
flicting passions and events operating on a frame of acute sensibility, —
latent lunacy.

"It has often occurred to me (says Dr. F.) that Shakspeare's charac
ter of Hamlet can only be understood on this principle: — He feigns
madness for political purposes, while the Poet means to represent his
understanding as really (and unconsciously to himself) unhinged by the
cruel circumstances in which he is placed. The horror of the communi
cation made by his father's spectre, the necessity of belying his attach
ment to an innocent and deserving object, the certainty of his mother's
guilt, and the supernatural impulse by which he is goaded to an act of
assassination abhorrent to his nature, are causes sufficient to overwhelm
and distract a mind previously disposed to ' weakness and to melan
choly,' and originally full of tenderness and natural affection. By refer
ring to the play, it will be seen that his real insanity is only developed
after the mock play. Then, in place of a systematic conduct, conducive
to his purposes, he becomes irresolute, inconsequent; and the plot
appears to stand unaccountably still. Instead of striking at his object,
he resigns himself to the current of events, and sinks at length, ignobly,
under the stream."f

* William Meister's Apprenticeship, b. iv. ch. 13.
f Essay on the Theory of Apparitions, p. Ill — 115.

VOL. vii. 32

250 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.

A comedian of considerable talents has entered at large into the
question of Hamlet's madness, and has endeavored to show that the Poet
meant to represent him as insane.* Mr. Boswell, on the contrary, in a
very judicious and ingenious review of Hamlet's character, combats the
supposition, and thinks it entirely without foundation. He argues that
" the sentiments which fall from Hamlet in his soliloquies, or in confiden
tial communication with Horatio, evince not only a sound but an acute
and vigorous understanding. His misfortunes, indeed, and a sense of
shame, from the hasty and incestuous marriage of his mother, have sunk
him into a state of weakness and melancholy ; but though his mind is en-
feebled, it is by no means deranged. It would have been little in the
manner of Shakspeare to introduce two persons in the same play whose
intellects were disordered; but he has rather, in this instance, as in
King Lear, a second time effected what, as far as I can recollect, no
other writer has ever ventured to attempt — the exhibition, on the same
scene, of real and fictitious madness in contrast with each other. In car
rying his design into execution, Hamlet feels no difficulty in imposing
upon the king, whom he detests ; or upon Polonius, and his school-fellows,
whom he despises : but the case is very different indeed in his interviews
with Ophelia ; aware of the submissive mildness of her character, which
leads her to be subject to the influence of her father and her brother, he
cannot venture to entrust her with his secret. In her presence, therefore,
he has not only to assume a disguise, but to restrain himself from those
expressions of affection, which a lover must find it most difficult to repress
in the presence of his mistress. In this tumult of conflicting feelings, he
is led to overact his part, from a fear of falling below it ; and thus gives
an appearance of rudeness and harshness to that which is, in fact, a pain
ful struggle to conceal his tenderness."!

Mr. Richardson, in his Essay on the Character of Hamlet, has well
observed that " the spirit of that remarkable scene with Ophelia, where
he tells her, « Get thee to a nunnery,' is frequently misunderstood ; and
especially by the players. At least, it does not appear to have been the
Poet's intention that the air and manner of Hamlet, in this scene, should
be perfectly grave and serious ; nor is there any thing in the dialogue to
justify the grave and tragic tone with which it is frequently spoken.
Let Hamlet be represented as delivering himself in a light and airy, un
concerned and thoughtless manner, and the rudeness so much complained
of will disappear." His conduct to Ophelia is intended to confirm and
publish the notion he would convey of his pretended insanity, which could
not be marked by any circumstance so strongly as that of treating her
with harshness or indifference. The sincerity and ardor of his passion
for her had undergone no change; he could not explain himself to her;
and, in the difficult and trying circumstances in which he was placed,
had, therefore, no alternative.

* On the Madness of Hamlet, by Mr. W. Farren. — London Magazine, for April, 1824.
•f Boswell's edition of Malorie's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 536.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 251

The Poet, indeed, has marked with a master hand the amiahle and
polished character of Hamlet. Ophelia designates him as having been

" the glass of fashion, and the mould of form ; "

and, though circumstances have unsettled him, and thrown over his
natural disposition the clouds of melancholy, the kindness of his dis
position, and his natural hilarity, break through on every occasion which
arises to call them forth.

Mr. Bos well has remarked, that " the scene with the grave-diggers
shows, in a striking point of view, his good-natured affability. The re
flections which follow afford new proofs of his amiable character. The
place where he stands, the frame of his own thoughts, and the objects
which surround him, suggest the vanity of all human pursuits ; but there
is nothing harsh or caustic in his satire ; his observations are dictated
rather by feelings of sorrow than of anger ; and the sprightliness of his
wit, which misfortune has repressed, but cannot altogether extinguish, has
thrown over the whole a truly pathetic cast of humorous sadness. Those
gleams of sunshine, which serve only to show us the scattered fragments
of a brilliant imagination, crushed and broken by calamity, are much more
affecting than a long, uninterrupted train of monotonous woe."

" Ophelia is a character almost too exquisitely touching to be dwelt
upon. O rose of May ! O flower too soon faded ! Her love, her mad
ness, her death, are described with the truest touches of tenderness and
pathos. It is a character which nobody but Shakspeare could have drawn
in the way that he has done ; and to the conception of which there ia
not the smallest approach, except in some of the old romantic ballads."*

* Hazlitt's Characters of Shakspeare's Plays, p. 112.

252

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark.

HAMLET, Son to the former, and Nephew to the present, King.

POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain.

HORATIO, Friend to Hamlet.

LAERTES, Son to Polonius.

VOLTIMAND, }

CORNELIUS, f Courtiers

ROSENCRANTZ, (
GuiLDENSTERN, J

OSRIC, a Courtier.
Another Courtier.
A Priest.

MARCELLUS, ) Q^
BERNARDO, J ^C
FRANCISCO, a Soldier.
REYNALDO, Servant to Polonius.
A Captain. An Ambassador.
Ghost of Hamlet's Father.
FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway.

GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and Mother to Hamlet.
OPHELIA, Daughter to Polonius.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers,
Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants.

SCENE. Elsinore.

253

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Elsmore. A Platform before the Castle.

FRANCISCO on his post. Enter to him, BERNARDO.

Bernardo. WHO'S there ?

Fran. Nay, answer me ; * stand, and unfold

Yourself.

Ber. Long live the king !

Fran. Bernardo ?

Ber. He.

Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.

Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve ; get thee to bed,
Francisco.

Fran. For this relief, much thanks ; 'tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.

Ber. Have you had quiet guard ?

Fran. Not a mouse stirring.

Ber. Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals 2 of my watch, bid them make haste.

1 i. e. me, who have a right to demand the watchword ; which appears
to have been, " Long live the king."

2 Shakspeare uses rivals for associates, partners ; and competitor has
the same sense throughout these plays. It is the original sense of rivalis.

254 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT 1.

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

Fran. I think I hear them. — Stand, ho ! Who is
there ?

Hor. Friends to this ground.

Mar. And liegemen to the Dane.

Fran. Give you good night.

Mar. f O, farewell, honest soldier ;

Who hath relieved you ?

Fran. Bernardo hath my place.

Give you good night. [Exit FRANCISCO.

Mar. Holla! Bernardo!

Ber. Say,

What, is Horatio there ?

Hor. A piece of him.

Ber. Welcome, Horatio ; welcome, good Marcellus.

Hor. What, has this thing appeared again to-night ?

Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy ;
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us.
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night ;
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve 1 our eyes, and speak to it.

Hor. Tush ! tush ! 'twill not appear.

Ber. Sit down awhile ;

And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.

Hor. Well, sit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

Ber. Last night of all,

When yon same star, that's westward from the pole,
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself,
The bell then beating one, —

Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes

again !

1 To approve is to confirm.

,3C. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 255

Enter Ghost.

Ber. In the same figure like the king that's dead.

Mar. Thou art a scholar ; speak to it, Horatio.1

Ber. Looks it not like the king ? Mark it, Horatio.

Hor. Most like ; — it harrows 2 me with fear and
wonder.

Ber. It would be spoke to.

Mar. Speak to it, Horatio.

Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of

night,

Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march ? By Heaven, I charge thee,
speak.

Mar. It is offended.

Ber. See ! it stalks away.

Hor. Stay ; speak : speak, 1 charge thee speak.

[Exit Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble, and look

pale ;

Is not this something more than fantasy ?
What think you of it ?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe,
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes.

Mar. Is it not like the king ?

Hor. As thou art to thyself.
Such was the very armor he had on,
When he the ambitious Norway combated ;
So frowned he once, when, in an angry parle,
He smote the sledded Polack 3 on the ice.

'Tis strange.

1 It was a vulgar notion, that a supernatural being could only be spoken
to, with effect, by persons of learning; exorcisms being usually practised
by the clergy in Latin.

2 The first quarto reads, " it horrors me."

3 i. e. the sledged Polander (Polaque, Fr.). The old copy reads
Pollax.

256 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT 1.

Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump l at this dead

hour,
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know

not ; 2

But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that

knows,

Why this same strict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the subject of the land ;
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war ;
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week:
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint-laborer with the day ;
Who is't that can inform me ?

Hor. That can I ;

At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
Whose image even but now appeared to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto pricked on by a most emulate pride,
Dared to the combat ; in which our valiant Hamlet
(For so this side of our known world esteemed him)
Did slay this Fortinbras ; who, by a sealed compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,
Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands,
Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror :
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our king ; which had returned
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

1 Junp. So the quarto of 1(103, and that of 1604. The folio reads
just. Jump and jus/ were synonymous. So in Chapman's May Day,
1611 : —

" Your appointment was jumpe at three with me."

2 That is, " what particular train of thought to follow," &c. The first
quarto reads : —

"In what particular to work I know not."

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 257

Had he been vanquisher ; as, by the same co-mart,1

And carriage of the article designed,2

His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,

Of unimproved mettle hot and full,3

Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,

Sharked 4 up a list of landless resolutes,

For food and diet, to some enterprise

That hath a stomach 5 in't ; which is no other,

(As it doth well appear unto our state,)

But to recover of us, by strong hand,

And terms compulsative, those 'foresaid lands

So by his father lost. And this, I take it,

Is the main motive of our preparations ;

The source of this our watch ; and the chief head

Of this post-haste and romage 6 in the land.

7 [Ber. I think it be no other, but even so.
Well may it sort,8 that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch ; so like the king
That was, and is, the question 9 of these wars.

HOT. A mote it is, to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
* * * * * * * * 10

As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,

1 Co-mart is the reading of the quarto of 1604 ; the folio reads covenant.
Co-mart, it is presumed, means a joint bargain. No other instance of the
word is known.

2 i. e. "and import of that article marked out for that purpose."

3 The first quarto reads, " Of unapproved" Dr. Johnson explains it,
" full of spirit, not regulated or guided by knowledge or experience,"
and has been hitherto uncontradicted.

4 i. e. snapped up or taken up hastily. Scroccare is properly to do
any thing at another man's cost, to shark or shift for any thing.

5 Stomach is used for determined purpose.

6 Romage, now spelt rummage, and in common use as a verb, for
making a thorough search, a busy and tumultuous movement.

7 All the lines within crotchets, in this play, are omitted in the folio of
1623. The title-pages of the quartos of 1604 and 1605 declare this play
to be " enlarged to almost as much againe as it was, according to the
true and perfect copie."

8 i. e. suit, accord.

9 i. e. theme or subject

10 A line or more is here supposed to be lost.

VOL. vii. 33

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT 1.

Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star,1
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
And even the like precurse of fierce events, —
As harbingers preceding still the fates,
And prologue to the omen 2 coming on,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen. — ]

Re-enter Ghost.

But, soft ; behold ! lo, where it comes again !

I'll cross it, though it blast me. — Stay, illusion!

If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,

Speak to me.

If there be any good thing to be done,

That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,

Speak to me.

If thou art privy to thy country's fate,

Which, happily, foreknowing, may avoid,

O, speak !

Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life

Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,

For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,

[Cock crows.
Speak of it ; — stay, and speak ! — Stop it, Marcellus.

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan ?

Hor. Do, if it will not stand.

Ber. 'Tis here !

Hor. 'Tis here !

Mar. Tis gone ! [Exit Ghost.

We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence ;
For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
And our vain blows malicious mockery.

Ber. It was about to speak when the cock crew.

Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,

1 i. e. the moon.

2 Omen is here put, by a figure of speech, for predicted event.

SC. II.J HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 259

The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day ; and at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring1 spirit hies
To iiis confine ; and of the truth herein
This present object made probation.

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock.2
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Savior's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long.
And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad ;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes,3 nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallowed and so gracious 4 is the time.

Ilor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it.
But look, the morn,5 in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Break we our watch up ; and, by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our lev s, fitting our duty?

Mar. Let's do't, I pray ; and I this morning know
Where we shall find him most convenient. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same. A Room of State in the

same.

Enter the King, Queen, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES,
VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants.

King. Though yet of Harnlet our dear brother's
death

1 " Evtra-vagans, wandering about, going beyond bounds." Erring
is erraticus, straying or roving up and down.

2 This is a very ancient superstition.

3 i. e. blasts or strikes.

4 Gracious is sometimes used by Shakspeare for graced, favored.

5 First quarto, " sun."

2(JO HAMLET, PRINCE OF DEiNMARK. [ACT I.

The memory be green ; and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe ;
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, —
With one auspicious, and one dropping eye ; 1
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole, — 2
Taken to wife ; nor have we herein barred
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along. — For all, our thanks.

Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, —
Holding a weak supposal of our worth ;
Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death,
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
Colleagued3 with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not failed to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with all bands 4 of law,
To our most valiant brother. — So much for him.
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting.
Thus much the business is. We have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, —
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose, — to suppress
His further gait5 herein ; in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions, are all made
Out of his subject : — and we here despatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway ;

1 Thus the folio. The quarto reads : —

" With an auspicious and a dropping eye."

2 i. e. grief.

3 i. e. united to this strange fancy of, &c.

4 The folio reads bonds ; but banrls and bonds signified the same thing
in the Poet's time.

5 Gait here signifies course, progress.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 261

Giving to you no further personal power

To business with the king, more than the scope

Of these related articles allow.1

Farewell ; and let jour haste commend jour duty.

Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we show our
duty.

King. We doubt it nothing ; heartily farewell.

[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS,
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you ?
You told us of some suit ; what is't, Laertes ?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking ?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.2
What wouldst thou have, Laertes ?

Laer. My dread lord,

Your leave and favor to return to France ;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation ;
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

King. Have you your father's leave ? What cays
Polonius ?

Pol. He hath, my lord, [wrung from me my slow

leave,

By laborsome petition ; and, at last,
Upon his will, I sealed my hard consent.]
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes ; time be thine,

1 The folio reads, " More than the scope of these dilated articles allow."
We have not scrupled to read related, upon the authority of the first quarto,
as more intelligible. The first quarto reads : —

" no further personal power

To business with the king

Than those related articles do show.1"

2 The various parts of the body enumerated, are not more allied, more
necessary to each other, than the throne of Denmark (i. e. the king-) is
bound to your father to do him service.

262 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT i

And thy best graces spend it at thy will.1 —
But now, rny cousin Hamlet, and my son,

Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.2

[Aside.

King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you ?

Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the sun.

Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not, forever, writh thy veiled lids,3
Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Thou know'st 'tis common ; all that live must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.

Queen. If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee ?

Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems.
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected havior of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly. These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play ;
But I have that within which passeth show ;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature,
Hamlet,

1 In the first quarto this passage stands thus : —

" King. With all our heart, Laertes, fare thee well.

Laert. I in all love and dutie take my leave. [Exit."

The king's speech may be thus explained : — " Take an auspicious hour,
Laertes ; be your time your own, and thy best virtues guide thee in
spending of it at thy will." Johnson thought that we should read, " And
my best graces."

'- ,.'l little more than kin has been rightly said to allude to the double
relationship of the king to Harriet, as uncle and step-father ; his kindred
by blood and kindred hy marriage. By less than kind, Hamlet means de
generate and base. Dr. Johnson says 'that kind io the Teutonic word for
child; that Hamlet means that he was something more than cousin, and
less than son.

3 i. e. with eyes cast down.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 263

To give these mourning duties to jour father.

But you must know, your father lost a father;

That father lost, lost his ; 1 and the survivor bound

In filial obligation, for some term,

To do obsequious sorrow.2 But to persever

In obstinate condolement,3 is a course

Of impious stubbornness ; 'tis unmanly grief:

It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven ;

A heart unfortified, or mind impatient ;

An understanding simple and unschooled.

For what we know must be, and is as common

As any the most vulgar thing to sense,

Why should we, in our peevish opposition,

Take it to heart ? Fie ! 'tis a fault to Heaven,

A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

To reason most absurd ; whose common theme

Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,

From the first corse, till he that died to-day,

This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth

This unprevailing 4 woe ; and think of us

As of a father. For let the world take note,

You are the most immediate to our throne ;

And with no less nobility of love,5

Than that which dearest father bears his son,

Do I impart6 toward you. For your intent

In going back to school in Wittenberg,

It is most retrograde to our desire ;

And, we beseech you, bend you to remain

Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,

Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet ;
I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.

Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply ;

1 The first quarto reads, « That father dead, lost his."

2 Obsequious is used with an allusion to obsequies, or funeral rites.

3 Condolement for grief.

4 Unprevailing was used in the sense of unavailing, as late as Dryden'i
time.

5 This was a common form of figurative expression.

6 i. e. dispense, bestow.

264 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I.

Be as out-self in Denmark. — Madam, come ;
This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart ; in grace whereof
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ;
And the king's rouse ! the heaven shall bruit again,
Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, $-c., POLO-

NIUS, and LAERTES.

Ham. O that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve 2 itself into a dew !
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon3 'gainst self-slaughter! O God ! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world !
Fie ou't ! O fie ! 'tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature,
Possess it merely.4 That it should come to this !
But two months dead ! — nay, not so much, not two :
So excellent a king ; that was, to this,
Hyperion 5 to a satyr ; so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem 6 the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth !
Must I remember ? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on. And yet, within a month, —
Let me not think on't ; — Frailty, thy name is woman ! —

1 The quarto of 1G03 reads :—

" The rouse the king shall drink unto the prince."

A rouse appears to have been a deep draught to the health of any one ,
it may be only an abridgment of carouse.

2 To resolve had anciently the same meaning as to dissolve.

3 The old copy reads, cannon; but this was the old spelling of canon,
a law or decree.

4 i. c. solely, wholly.

5 Hyperion, or Apollo, always represented as a model of beauty.

6 i. e. deign to allow. Steevens had the merit of pointing out the pas
sage in Golding's Ovid, which settles the meaning of the word : —

" Yet could he not belcunc

The shape of any other bird than cgle for to seeme."
« nulla tamen alite verti

Dignatur, nisi qus3 possit sua fulmine ferre."

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 265

A little month ; or ere those shoes were old,

With which she followed my poor father's body,

Like Niobe, all tears ; — why she, even she, —

O Heaven ! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,1

Would have mourned longer, — married with my uncle,

My father's brother ; but no more like my father,

Than I to Hercules. Within a month, —

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears

Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, —

She married. — O most wicked speed, to post

With such dexterity to incestuous sheets !

It is not, nor it cannot come to, good ;

But break, my heart ; for I must hold my tongue !

Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS.

Hor. Hail to your lordship !

Ham. I am glad to see you well ;

Horatio, — or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

Ham. Sir, my good friend ; I'll change that name

with you.

And what make you2 from Wittenberg, Horatio? —
Marcellus ?

Mar. My good lord,

Ham. I am very glad to see you ; good even, sir.
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so ;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,

i " Discourse of reason " was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time ;
and, indeed, the Poet again uses the same language in Troilus and Cres-
sida, Act ii. Sc. 2 : —

is your blood

So madly hot, that no discourse of reason —
can qualify the same ? "

In the language of the schools, " Discourse is that rational act of the
mind by which we deduce or infer one thing from another." Discourse
of reason, therefore, may mean ratiocination. Brutes have not this reason
ing faculty, though they have what has been called instinct and memory.
The first quarto reads, " a beast devoid of reason."
2 i. e. what do you ?
VOL. vii. 34

266 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I

To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore ?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student ;
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral baked

meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven,
Or l ever I had seen that day, Horatio !
My father, — methinks I see my father.

Hor. Oh where,

My lord ?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I saw him once ; he was a goodly king.

Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

Ham. Saw ! who ?

Hor. My lord, the king, your father.

Ham. The king, my father ?

Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent ear ; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham. For God's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waste and middle of the night,2
Been thus encountered : A figure like your father,
Armed at all points, exactly, eap-a-pe,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,

1 .This is the reading of the quarto of 1604. The first quarto and the
folio read, " Ere I had ever."

2 The first quarto, 1603, has :—

"In the dead vast and middle of the night."
We have " that vast of night" in The Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 267

Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walked,

By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes,

Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they, distilled 1

Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me

In dreadful secrecy impart they did ;

And I, with them, the third night kept the watch ;

Where, as they had delivered, both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,

The apparition comes. I knew your father ;

These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this ?

Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watched.

Ham. Did you not speak to it ?

Hor. My lord, I did.

But answer made it none ; yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head, and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud ;
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanished from our sight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honored lord, 'tis true ;
And we did think it writ down in our duty,
To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night ?

All. We do, my lord.

Ham. Armed, say you ?

All. Armed, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe ?

All. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then saw you not

His face ?

Hor. O yes, my lord ; he wore his beaver 2 up.

Ham. What, looked he frowningly ?

Hor. A countenance more

In sorrow than in anger.

o

1 The folio reads beslilled.

2 That part of the helmet which may be lifted up.

268 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I.

Ham. Pale, or red ?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you ?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amazed you.

Ham. Very like,

Very like. Staid it long ?

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a
hundred.

Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I saw it.

Ham. His beard was grizzled ? no t

Hor. It was as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silvered.

Ham. I will watch to-night ;

Perchance 'twill walk again.

Hor. I warrant you it will.

Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto concealed this sight,
Let it be tenable 1 in your silence still ;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue ;
I will requite your loves. So, fare you well.
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

All. Our duty to your honor.

Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.

[Exeunt HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and

BERNARDO.

My father's spirit in arms ! all is not well ;
I doubt some foul play. 'Would the night were come !
Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

[Exit.

i The quarto of 1603 reads tenible ; the other quartos, tenable ; the
folio of 1623, treble.

SC. III.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 269

SCENE III. A Room in Polonius's House.

Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA.

Laer. My necessaries are embarked ; farewell.
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.

Oph. Do you doubt that ?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor ,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood ;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute ; l
No more.

Oph. No more but so ?

Laer. Think it no more.

For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews 2 and bulk ; but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now ;
And now no soil, nor cautel 3 doth besmirch
The virtue of his will ; but, you must fear,
His greatness weighed, his will is not his own ;
For he himself is subject to his birth.
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and health of the whole state ; 4
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed

1 This is the reading of the quarto copy. The folio has : —

" sweet, not lasting",

The suppliance of a minute."

" The suppliance of a minute " should seem to mean, supplying or endur
ing only that short space of time ; as transitory and evanescent.

2 i. e. sinews and muscular strength.

3 Cautel is cautious circumspection, subtlety, or deceit. Minsheu
explains it, " A crafty way to deceive."

4 " The safety and health of the whole state." Thus the quarto of
1604. In the folio, it is altered to " The sanctity," &c., supposing the
metre defective. But safety is used as a trisyllable by Spenser and
others.

270 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I.

Unto the voice and yielding of that body,

Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,

It fits your wisdom so far to believe it,

As he in his particular act and place

May give his saying deed ; which is no further,

Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.

Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain,

If with too credent ear you list l his songs ;

Or lose your heart ; or your chaste treasure open

To his unmastered 2 importunity.

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister ;

And keep you in the rear of your affection,

Out of the shot and danger of desire.

The chariest3 maid is prodigal enough,

If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes ;

The canker galls the infants of the spring,

Too oft before their buttons be disclosed ;

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

Be wary, then ; best safety lies in fear ;

Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart ; but, good my brother.
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whilst, like a puffed and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.4

Laer. O, fear me not.

I stay too long ; — but here my father comes.

Enter POLONIUS.

A double blessing is a double grace ;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

1 " If with too credulous ear you listen to his songs."

2 Licentious.

3 i. e. the most cautious, the most discreet.

4 i. e. regards not his own lesson. In The Two Angry Women of
Abingdon, 1599, we have : — "Take heed, is a good reed."

SC. III.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 27*1

Pol. Yet here, Laertes ! aboard, aboard, for shame ;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for. There, — my blessing with you ;
[Laying his hand on LAERTES' head.
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character.1 Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; 2
But do not dull thy palm3 with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in,
Bear it that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice ;
Take each man's censure,4 but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy ; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man ;
And they in France, of the best rank and station,
Are most select and generous, chief5 in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be ;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.6
This above all, — to thine own self be true ;
And it must follow, as the night the day,

1 i. e. mark, imprint, strongly infix.

2 The old copies read, " with hoops of steel."

3 This figurative expression means, " do not blunt thy feeling by taking
every new acquaintance by the hand."

4 i. e. judgment, opinion.

5 The quarto of 1G03 reads :—

" Are of a most select and generall chief in this"
The folio:—

" Are of a most select and generous chejf, in that."
The other quartos give the line: —

" As of a most select and generous, cheefe in that."
" Or of a most select and generous, cheefe in that"
The simple emendation by omitting of a, and the proper punctuation of
the Hue, make all clear. "The nobility of France are most select and
high-minded ( generous) chiefly in that;" chief being an adjective, used
adverbially.

6 i. e. thrift, economical prudence.

272 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I.

Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell ; my blessing season 1 this in thee !

Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

Pol. The time invites you ; go, your servants tend.2

Laer. Farewell, Ophelia ; and remember well
What I have said to you.

Oph. 'Tis in my memory locked,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Laer. Farewell. [Exit LAERTES.

Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you ?

Oph. So please you, something touching the lord
Hamlet.

Pol. Marry, well bethought.
'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you ; and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.
If it be so, (as so 'tis put on me,
And that in way of caution,) I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter, and your honor.
What is between you ? Give me up the truth.

Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

Pol. Affection ? puh ! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted 3 in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them ?

Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

Pol. Marry, I'll teach you. Think yourself a baby ;
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly ;
Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Wronging it thus) you'll tender me a fool.4

Oph. My lord, he hath importuned me with love,
In honorable fashion.

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it ; go to, go to.

1 " To season, to temper wisely, to make more pleasant and accept
able."— Bard.

2 Wait 3 i. e. untried, unexperienced.

4 Shakspeare makes Polonius play on the equivocal use of the word
lender, which was anciently used in the sense of regard or respect, as
well as in that of offer. The folio reads, " roaming it thus ; " and the
quarto, " wrong it thus."

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 273

Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech,

my lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks.1 I do

know,

When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows.2 These blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat, — extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a making, —
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence ;
Set your entreatments 3 at a higher rate,
Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, that he is young ;
And with a larger tether may he walk,
Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows ; for they are brokers,4
Not of that die which their investments show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all ; —
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any moment's leisure,
As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you ; come your ways.

Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt

SCENE IV. The Platform.

Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS.
Ham. The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold.

1 This was a proverbial phrase. There is a collection of epigrams
under that title ; the woodcock being accounted a witless bird, from a
vulgar notion that it had no brains. " Springes to catch woodcocks,"
means " arts to intrap simplicity."

2 " How prodigal the tongue lends the heart vows," 4to. 1603.

3 i. e. " be more difficult of access ; and let the suits to you, for that pur
pose, be of higher respect than a command to parley."

4 i. e. panders. Brokage, and to broke, was anciently to deal in business
of an amatory* nature by procurement

VOL. vii. 35

274 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I.

Hor. It is a nipping and an eager1 air.

Ham. What hour now ?

Hor. I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar. No, it is struck.

Hor. Indeed ? I heard it not ; it then draws near

the season,
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

[A flourish of trumpets ) and ordnance shot

off, within.
What does this mean, my lord ?

Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his

rouse,

Keeps wassail,2 and the swaggering upspring3 reels,
And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.

Hor. Is it a custom ?

Ham. Ay, marry, is't.
But to my mind, — though 1 am native here,
And to the manner born,— it is a custom
More honored in the breach, than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel, east and west,4
Makes us traduced, and taxed of other nations.
They clepe 5 us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
Soil our addition ; 6 and indeed it takes
From our achievements, though performed at height.
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,
That, for some vicious mole 7 of nature in them,
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,

1 Eager was used in the sense of the French aigre, sharp.

2 To keep ivassail was to devote the time to festivity.

3 Upspring here appears to mean nothing more than upstart. Steevens,
from a passage in Chapman's Alphonsus, thought that it might mean a
dance.

4 This and the following twenty-one lines are omitted in the folio.
They had probably been omitted in representation, lest they should give
offence to Anne of Denmark.

5 Clepe, call, clypian (Sax.). The Danes were, indeed, proverbial as
drunkards ; and well they might be, according to the accounts of the time.

6 i. e. characterize us by a swinish epithet.

7 i. e. spot, blemish.

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 275

Since nature cannot choose his origin,)

By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,1

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason ;

Or by some habit, that too much o'erleavens

The form of plausive manners ; — that these men, —

Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;

Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,2 —

Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,

As infinite as man may undergo)

Shall in the general censure 3 take corruption

From that particular fault. The dram of bale

Doth all the noble substance often doubt4

To his own scandal.

Enter Ghost.

Hor. Look, my lord, it comes !

Ham. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us !
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damned,
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable 5 shape,

1 Complexion for humor.

2 i. e. the influence of the planet supposed to govern our birth, &c.

3 i. e. judgment, opinion.

4 The last paragraph of this speech stands in the quarto editions thus : —

" the dram of eale

Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
To his own scandal."

Steevens reads : —

-The dramofte

Doth all the noble substance often dout [i. e. do out]
To his own scandal."

Malone proposed : —

" The dram of base

Doth all the noble substance of worth dout
To his own scandal."

There seems to be no reason why dout should be substituted for doubt.
Mr. Boswell has justly observed, that to doubt may mean to bring into
doubt or suspicion; many Avords similarly formed are used by Shakspeare
and his contemporaries. We have ventured to read bale (i. e. evil) instead
of base, as nearer to the reading of the first edition.

5 Questionable must not be understood in its present acceptation of
doubtful, but as conversable, inviting question.

276 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT 1

That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee, Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me.
Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell,
Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements ! why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurned,1
Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again ! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,2
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition,3
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ?

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.

Mar. Look, with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground !
But do not go with it.

Hor. No, by no means.

Ham. It will not speak ; then I will follow it.

Hor. Do not, my lord.

Ham. Why, what should be the fear ?

I do not set my life at a pin's fee ;
And, for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
It waves me forth again ; — I'll follow it.

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
That beetles4 o'er his base into the sea?
And there assume some other horrible form,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,5
And draw you into madness ? Think of it.

1 Quarto 1603— interred.

2 It appears, from Olaus Wormius, cap. vii., that it was the custom to
bury the Danish kings in their armor.

3 Frame of mind.

4 i. e. overhangs his base.

5 " To deprive your sovereignty of reason," signifies to take from you or
dispossess you of the command of reason.

SC. V.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 277

The very place puts toys 1 of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.

Ham. It waves me still.

Go on, I'll follow thee.

Mar. You shall not go, my lord.

Ham. Hold off your hands.

Hor. Be ruled; you shall not go.

Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. —

[Ghost beckons.
Still am I called ; — unhand me, gentlemen ; —

[Breaking from them.

By Heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets 2 me :
I say, away; — go on, I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.

Mar. Let's follow ; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

Hor. Have after. — To what issue will this come ?

Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Hor. Heaven will direct it.

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. A more remote Part of the Platform.

Enter Ghost and HAMLET.

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak, I'll go no
further.

Ghost. Mark me.

Ham. I will.

Ghost. My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.

i i. e. whims.

a To let, in old language, is to hinder, to stay, to obstruct.

278 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I.

Ham. Alas, poor ghost !

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold,

Ham. Speak ; I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

Ham. What?

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit ;
Doomed for a certain term to walk the night ;
And, for the day, confined to fast in fires,1
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burned and purged away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.2
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. — List, list, O, list ! —
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,

Ham. O Heaven !

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder

Ham. Murder?

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Ham. Haste me to know it ; that I, with wings as

swift

As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost. I find thee apt :

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,3

1 The first quarto reads : —

" Confined in flaming fire."

2 Vide note on The Comedy of Errors, Act iii. Sc. 2. It is porpenJtim
in the old editions in every instance. Fretful is the reading of the folio,
the quartos re&A fearful.

3 The folio reads mis itself. <fcc. In the Humorous Lieutenant, by
Beaumont and .Fletcher, wo have : —

" This dull root plucked from Lethe's flood."

SC. V.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 279

Wouldst thoLi not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.

'Tis given out, that, sleeping in mine orchard,

A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Denmark

Is by a forged process of my death

llankly abused. But know, thou noble youth,

The serpent that did sting thy father's life,1

Now wears his crown.

Ham. O my prophetic soul ! my uncle !

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce !) won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen.

0 Hamlet, what a falling-off was there !
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow

1 made to her in marriage ; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine !

But virtue, as it never will be moved,

Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven ;

So lust, though to a radiant angel linked,

Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

And prey on garbage.

But soft ! methinks I scent the morning air ;

Brief let me be. — Sleeping within mine orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon,

Upon my secure2 hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebenon3 in a vial,

And in the porches of mine ears did pour

The leperous distilment ; whose effect

Holds such an enmity with blood of man,

That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through

The natural gates and alleys of the body ;

And with a sudden vigor, it doth posset

1 Quarto, 1603— heart.

2 This is also a Latinism ; securus, quiet, or unguarded.

3 Hebenon may probably be derived from henbane, the oil of which, ac
cording to Pliny, dropped into the ears, disturbs the brain ; and there is
sufficient evidence that it was held poisonous by our ancestors.

280 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT I.

I

And curd, like eager1 droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood : so did it mine,
And a most instant tetter barked about,
Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen, at. once despatched ; 2
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhouseled,3 disappointed,4 unaneled ; 5
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
O horrible ! O horrible ! most horrible !
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not ;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught ; leave her to Heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once !
The glowworm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire ; 6
Adieu, adieu, adieu ! remember me. [Exit.

Ham. O all you host of heaven ! O earth ! What

else ?
And shall I couple hell ? — O fie ! — Hold, hold, my

heart ;

And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up ! — Remember thee ?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe.7 Remember thee ?
Yea, from the tables of my memory

1 In Sc. iv. we have eager air for sharp, biting air. " Eger (s&ys
Baret), sower, sharp; acidus, aigre."

2 Quarto 1603, deprived. To despatch and to rid were synonymous.

3 Unhouseled is without having received the sacrament

4 Disappointed is the same as unappointed, and may be explained
unprepared.

5 Unaneled is without extreme unction.

6 Uneffectual^ i. e. shining without heat. The use of to pale, as a verb,
is rather unusual, but not peculiar to Shakspeare.

7 i. e. in this head confused with thought.

SC. V.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 281

I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there ;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmixed with baser matter. Yes, by Heaven!
O most pernicious woman !

0 villain, villain, smiling, damned villain !
My tables, — meet it is, I set it down,

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain ;
At least, I am sure it may be so in Denmark.

[Writing.

So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word ; 1
It is, Adieu, adieu ! remember me.

1 have sworn't.

Hor. [Within.'] My lord, my lord,

Mar. [Within.] Lord Hamlet,

Hor. [Within.'] Heaven secure him !

Ham. So be it !

Mar. [Within.'] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy ! come, bird, come.2

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

Mar. How is't, my noble lord ?
Hor. What news, my lord ?

Ham. O wonderful !

Hor. Good my lord, tell it.

Ham. No ;

You will reveal it.
Hor. Not I, my lord, by Heaven.
Mar. Nor I, my lord.

1 The quarto 1603 has—" Now to the words." By " Now to my word,"
Hamlet means now to my motto, my word of remembrance. Steevens
asserted that the allusion is to the military watchword. A word, mot, or
motto, was any short sentence, such as is inscribed on a token, or under
a device or coat of arms. It was a common phrase. See Ben Jonson's
Works, by Mr. Gifford, vol. ii. p. 102.

2 This is the call which falconers use to their hawk in the air when
they would have him come down to them.

VOL. vn. 36

232 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT 1,

Ham. How say you, then ; would heart of man

once think it ?
But you'll be secret,

HOT. Mar. Ay, by Heaven, my lord.

Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Den
mark,
But he's an arrant knave.

Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the

grave,
To tell us this.

Ham. Why, right: you are in the right;

And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part ;
You, as your business, and desire, shall point you ; —
For every man hath business, and desire,
Such as it is, — and, for my own poor part,
Look you, I will go pray.

Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my
lord.

Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily ; yes,
'Faith, heartily.

Hor. There's no offence, my lord.

Ham. Yes, by saint Patrick,1 but there is, Horatio,
And much offence too. Touching this vision here,
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.
For your desire to know what is between us,
O'ermaster it as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request.

Hor. What is't, my lord ?

We will.

Ham. Never make known what you have seen
to-night.

Hor. Mar. My lord, we will not.

Ham. Nay, but swear 't.

1 Warburton has ingeniously defended Shakspeare for making the
Danish prince swear by St. Patrick, by observing, that ihe whole northern
world had their learning from Ireland. It is, however, more probable that
the Poet seized the first populai imprecation that came to his mind, with
out regarding whether it suited the country or character of the person to
whom he gave it.

SO. V.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 283

Hor. In faith,

My lord, not I.

Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith.

Ham. Upon my sword.

Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already.

Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Ha, ha, boy ! say'st thou so ? art thoti there,

true-penny ?

Come on, — you hear this fellow in the cellarage, —
Consent to swear.

Hor. Propose the oath, my lord.

Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen,
Swear by my sword.1

Ghost. [Beneath.'] Swear.

Ham. Hie et ubique ! then we'll shift our ground. —
Come hither, gentlemen,
And lay your hands again upon my sword.
Swear by my sword,
Never to speak of this that you have heard.

Ghost. [Beneath.'] Swear by his sword.

Ham. Well said, old mole ! Canst work i' the earth

so fast ?
A worthy pioneer ! — Once more remove, good friends.

Hor. O day and night, — but this is wondrous
strange !

Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
But come ; —

Here, as before, never, so help you mercy !
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet
To put an antic disposition on, —
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumbered thus, or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,

1 The custom of swearing by the sword, or rather by the cross at the
upper end of it, is very ancient. The name of Jesus was not unfrequently
inscribed on the handle.

284 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II.

As, Well, well, we know; — or, We could, an if we

would ; — or, If we list to speak; — or, There be, an if

they might ; —

Or such ambiguous giving out, to note

That you know aught of me. — This not to do, swear; *

So grace and mercy at your most need help you !

Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit ! So, gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you ;
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending to you,
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together ;
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint ; — O cursed spite !
That ever I was born to set it right !
Nay, come, let's go together. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Room in Polonius's House.

Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO.

Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Rey-
naldo.

Rey. I will, my lord.

Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,
Before you visit him, to make inquiry
Of his behavior.

Rey. My lord, I did intend it.

Pol. Marry, well said ; very well said. Look you,

sir,
Inquire me first what Danskers 2 are in Paris ;

1 The quarto 1604 reads, " this do swear." The sense is sufficiently
obvious without explanation.

2 i. e. Danes. Warner, in his Albion's England, calls Denmark Danske.

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 285

And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
What company, at what expense ; and finding,
By this encompassment, and drift of question,
That they do know my son, come you more nearer
Than your particular demands will touch it.
Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him ;
As thus, — / know his father, and his friends,
And, in part, him. — Do you mark this, Reynaldo ?

Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.

Pol. And, in part, him ; — but, you may say, not

well ;

But, ift be he I mean, he's very wild ;
Addicted so and so ; — and there put on him
What forgeries you please ; marry, none so rank
As may dishonor him ; take heed of that ;
But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
As are companions noted and most known
To youth and liberty.

Rey. As gaming, my lord.

Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing,1 swearing, quar
relling,
Drabbing ; — you may go so far.

Rey. My lord, that would dishonor him.

Pol. 'Faith, no ; as you may season it in the charge.
You must not put another scandal on him,
That he is open to incontinency ;
That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so

quaintly,

That they may seem the taints of liberty ;
The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind ;
A savageness 2 in unreclaimed blood,
Of general assault.

Rey. But, my good lord, —

Pol. Wherefore should you do this ?

Rey. Ay, my lord,

I would know that.

1 "The cunning of fencers is now applied to quarrelling; they thinke
themselves no men, if for stirring of a straw, they prove not their valure
uppon some bodies fleshe." — Gossan's Schole of Abuse, 1579.

a " A wildness of untamed blood, such as youth is generally assailed
by."

286 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II.

Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift ;

And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant.
You laying these slight sullies on my son,
As 'twere a thing a little soiled i' the working,
Mark you,

Your party in converse, him you would sound,
Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes,
The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assured,
He closes with you in this consequence ;
Good sir, or so ; * or friend, or gentleman, —
According to the phrase, or the addition,
Of man and country.

Rey. Very good, my lord.

Pol. And then, sir, does he this, — He does —
What was I about to say ? — By the mass, I was about
to say something. — Where did 1 leave ?

Rey. At, closes in the consequence.

Pol. At, closes in the consequence, — Ay, marry ;
He closes with you thus : — 1 know Ike gentleman ;
I saw him yesterday, or Mother day,
Or then, or then ; with such, or such ; and, as you say,
There was he gaming ; there overtook in his rouse ;
There falling out at tennis ; or, perchance,
I saw him enter such a house of sale,
(Videlicet, a brothel,) or so forth.
See you now ;

Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth ;
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With \vindlaces, and with assays of bias,2
By indirections find directions out;
So, by my former lecture and advice,
Shall you my son. You have me, have you not ?

Rey. My lord, I have.

Pol. God be wi' you; fare you well.

Rey. Good my lord,

Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.3

1 So, for so forth, as in the last act : — " Six French rapiers and poniards,
with their assigns, as girdle, hanger, and so."

2 i. e. by tortuous devices and side essays.

3 i. e. in your own person ; personally add your own observations of his
conduct to these inquiries respecting him.

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 287

Rey. I shall, my lord.

Pol. And let him ply his music.

Rey. Well, my lord.

[Exit.

Enter OPHELIA.

Pol. Farewell ! — How now, Ophelia ? what's the
matter ?

Oph. O my lord, my lord, I have been so af
frighted !

Pol. With what, in the name of Heaven ?

Op/L. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet, — with his doublet all unbraced ;
No hat upon his head ; his stockings fouled,
Ungartered and down-gyved : to his ankle ;
Pale as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other ;
And with a look so piteous in purport,
As if he had been loosed out of hell,
To speak of horrors,— he comes before me.

Pol. Mad for thy love ?

Oph. My lord, I do not know ;

But, truly, I do fear it.

Pol. What said he ?

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard ;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm ;
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long staid he so ;
At last, — a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down, —
He raised a sigh so piteous and profound,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,2
And end his being. That done, he lets me go ;
And, with his head over his shoulder turned,
He seemed to find his way without his eyes ;
For out o' doors he went without their help,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.

1 Hanging1 down like the loose cincture which confines the fetters or
gyves round the ankles.

~ i. e. his breast. " The bulke or breast of a man ; thorax, la poitrine."-
Baret.

288 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II.

Pol. Come, go with rne ; I will go seek the king.
This is the very ecstasy of love ;
Whose violent property foredoes 1 itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven,
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry, —
What, have you given him any hard words of late ?

Oph. No, my good lord ; but, as you did command,
I did repel his letters, and denied
His access to me.

Pol. That hath made him mad.

I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment,
I had not quoted 2 him. I feared he did but trifle,
And meant to wreck thee ; but, beshrew my jealousy !
It seems, it is as proper to our age
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king.
This must be known, which, being kept close, might

move

More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.3
Come.4 [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Room in the Castle.

Enter King, Queen, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN,
and Attendants.

King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guilden-

stern !

Moreover that we much did long to see you,
The need we have to use you, did provoke
Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
Of Hamlet's transformation ; so I call it,

1 Toforedo and to undo were synonymous.

2 To quote is to note, to mark.

3 " This must be made known to the king, for (being kept secret) the
hiding Hamlet's love might occasion more mischief to us from him and
the queen, than the uttering or revealing it will occasion hate and resent
ment from Hamlet"

4 Folio omits come.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 289

Since not l the exterior nor the inward man

Resembles that it was. What it should be,

More than his father's death, that thus hath put him

So much from the understanding of himself,

I cannot dream2 of. I entreat you both,

That, — being of so young days brought up with him ;

And, since, so neighbored to his youth and humor,3 —

That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court

Some little time ; so by your companies

To draw him on to pleasures ; and to gather,

So much as from occasion you may glean,

Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,4

That, opened, lies within our remedy.

Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talked of

you;

And, sure I am, two men there are not living,
To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
To show us so much gentry 5 and good will,
As to expend your time with us awhile,
For the supply and profit of our hope,6
Your visitation shall receive such thanks
As fits a king's remembrance.

Ros. Both your majesties

Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,7
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.

Guil. But8 we both obey,

And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,9
To lay our service freely at your feet,
To be commanded.

King. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guilden-
stern.

Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Rosen
crantz ;

i Quarto— sith nor. 2 Folio— deem. 3 Quarto— -havior

4 This line is omitted in the folio.

5 Gentry for gentle courtesy. " Gentlemanlinesse or gentry, kindness,
or natural goodness ; generositas." — Baret.

6 Supply and projit is aid and advantage.

7 i. e. over us. 8 Folio omits but.
9 i. e. to the utmost of inclination or disposition.

VOL. vii. 37

290 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II.

And I beseech you instantly to visit

My too much changed son. — Go, some of you,

And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

Guil. Heavens make our presence, and our practices,
Pleasant and helpful to him !

Queen. Ay, Amen!

[Exeunt Ros., GUIL., and some Attendants.

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
Are joyfully returned.

King. Thou still hast been the father of good news.

Pol. Have I, my lord ? Assure you, my good liege,
I hold my duty, as I hold my soul.
Both to my God, and to my gracious king ;
And I do think (or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the trail 1 of policv so sure
As it hath 2 used to do) that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

King. O, speak of that ; that do I long to hear.

Pol. Give first admittance to the ambassadors ;
My news shall be the fruit 3 to that great feast.

King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

[Exit POLONIUS.

He tells me, my dear Gertude, he hath found
The head and source of all your son's distemper.

Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main ;
His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.

Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.

King. Well, we shall sift him. — Welcome, my good

friends !
Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway ?

Vol. Most fair return of greetings and desires.
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress

1 i. e. the trace or track.

2 Folio — as I have.

3 Folio — news. By fruit, dessert is meant.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 291

His nephew's levies ; which to him appeared

To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack ;

But, better looked into, he truly found

It was against your highness ; whereat grieved —

That so his sickness, age, and impotence,

Was falsely borne in hand,1 — sends out arrests

On Fortinbras ; which he, in brief, obeys ;

Receives rebuke from Norway ; and, in fine,

Makes vow before his uncle, never more

To give the assay of arms against your majesty.

Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,

Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee ; 2

And his commission, to employ those soldiers,

So levied as before, against the Polack ;

With an entreaty, herein further shown,

[Gives a paper.

That it might please you to give quiet pass
Through your dominions for this enterprise ;
On such regards of safety, and allowance,
As therein are set down.

King. It likes us well ;

And, at our more considered time, we'll read,
Answer, and think upon this business.
Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labor.
Go to your rest ; at. night we'll feast together ;
Most welcome home !

[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.

Pol. This business is well ended.

My liege, and madam, to expostulate 3
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
Therefore, — since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, —
I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.

1 i. e. deluded, deceived by false appearances.

2 That is, a feud or fee in land of that annual value. The quartos read
threescore thousand.

3 i. e. to inquire. The idea of dotage encroaching upon wisdom, will
solve all the phenomena of the character of Polonius.

£9i4 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IL

Mad call I it ; for, to define true madness,
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad ?
But let that go.

Queen. More matter, with less art.

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
That he is mad, 'tis true ; 'tis true, 'tis pity ;
And pity 'tis, 'tis true : a foolish figure ;
But farewell it, for I will use no art.
Mad let us grant him, then ; and now remains,
That we find out the cause of this effect ;
Or, rather say, the cause of this defect ;
For this effect, defective, comes by cause.
Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
Perpend.

I have a daughter ; have, while she is mine ;
Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
Hath given me this. Now gather and surmise.

To the celestial, and my souPs idol, the most beauti
fied Ophelia,

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ; beautified is a vile
phrase ; but you shall hear. — Thus : —

In her excellent white bosom, these, &C.1

Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her ?

Pol. Good madam, stay awhile ; I will be faithful. —

Doubt thou the stars arejire; [Reads.

Doubt, that the sun doth move ;
Doubt truth to be a liar ;

But never doubt I love.

0 dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers ; I have
not art to reckon my groans ; but that I love thee best,
0 most best, believe it. Adieu.

Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this
machine is to him, Hamlet.

1 Formerly the word these was usually added at the end of the super
scription of letters. The folio reads : — " These in her excellent white
bosom these."

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 293

This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me ;
And more above, hath his solicitings,
As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
All given to mine ear.

King. But how hath she

Received his love ?

Pol. What do you think of me ?

King. As of a man faithful and honorable.

Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you

think,

When I had seen this hot love on the wing,
(As I perceived it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me,) what might you,
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
If I had played the desk or table-book ;
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb ; 1
Or looked upon this love with idle sight ;
What might you think ? No, I went round2 to work,
And my youn^ mistress thus did I bespeak : —
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy star ; 3
This must not be ; and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice ;
And he, repulsed, (a short tale to make,)
Fell into a sadness ; then into a fast ;
Thence to a watch ; thence into a weakness ;
Thence to a lightness ; and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.

King. Do you think 'tis this ?

Queen. It may be, very likely.

Pol. Hath there been such a time, (I'd fain know
that,)

1 That is, " If I had acted the part of depositary of their secret loves, or
given my heart a hint to be mute about their passion." The quartos
read — " given my heart a working" and the modern editors follow this
reading.

2 Plainly, roundly, without reserve.

3 This was changed to sphere in the 4to. 1632, and that reading is
followed by the modern editions. " Out of thy star," is placed above thee
by destiny.

294 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II

That I have positively said, 'TYs so,
When it proved otherwise ?

King. Not that I know,

Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise.

[Pointing to his head and shoulder.
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.

King. How may we try it further ?

Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours to
gether,
Here in the lobby.

Queen. So he does, indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him.
Be you and I behind an arras then ;
Mark the encounter : if he love her not,
And be not from his reason fallen thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm, and carters.

King. We will try it.

Enter HAMLET, reading.

Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch
comes reading.

Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away ;
I'll board1 him presently. — O, give me leave. —

[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants.
How does my good lord Hamlet?

Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy.

Pol. Do you know me, my lord ?

Ham. Excellent well ; you are a fishmonger.

Pol. Not I, my lord.

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.

Pol. Honest, my lord ?

Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is
to be one man picked out often thousand.

Pol. That's very true, my lord.

1 i. e. accost, address him.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 295

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog,
being a god, kissing carrion,1 — Have you a daughter ?

Pol. I have, my lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun. Conception is
a blessing ; but as your daughter may conceive, — friend,
look to't.

Pol. How say you by that ? [Aside.] Still harping
on my daughter: — yet he knew me not at first; he
said I was a fishmonger. He is far gone, far gone ;
and, truly, in my youth I suffered much extremity for
love ; very near this. I'll speak to him again. — What
do you read, my lord ?

6am. Words, words, words.

Pol. What is the matter, my lord ?

Ham. Between who ?

Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord.

Ham. Slanders, sir ; for the satirical rogue says
here, that old men have gray beards ; that their faces
are wrinkled ; their eyes purging thick amber, and
plum-tree gum ; and that they have a plentiful lack of
wit, together with most weak hams. All of which, sir,
though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I
hold it not honesty to have it thus set down ; for your
self, sir, should be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you
could go backward.

Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method
in it. [Aside.'] Will you walk out of the air, my lord ?

Ham. Into my grave ?

Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air. — How pregnant
sometimes his replies are ! a happiness that often mad
ness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so
prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and
suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him

i The old copies read — " being a gond kissing carrion." The emen
dation is Warburton's. The same kind of expression occurs in Cymbe-
}me : — " Common-kissing Titan." And Malone has adduced the follow
ing passage from the play of King Edward III., 1596, which Shakspeare
had certainly seen : —

" The freshest summer's day doth soonest taint
The loathed carrion that it seems to Arm."

296 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II

and my daughter. — My honorable lord, I will most
humbly take my leave of you.1

Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that
I will more willingly part withal ; except my life, except
mv life, except my life.

Pol. Fare you well, my lord.

Ham. These tedious old fools !

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUI LDEN STERN.

Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet ; there he is.

Ros. God save you, sir ! [To POLONIUS.

[Exit POLONIUS.

Guil. My honored lord !

Ros. My most dear lord !

Ham. My excellent good friends ! How dost thou,
Guildenstern ? Ah, Rosencrantz ! Good lads, how
do ye both ?

Ros, As the indifferent children of the earth.

Guil. Happy, in that we are not overhappy ;
On fortune's cap we are not the very button.

Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe ?

Ros. Neither, my lord.

Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the
middle of her favors ?

Guil. 'Faith, her privates we.

Ham. In the secret parts of fortune ? O, most
true ; she is a strumpet. What news ?

Ros. None, my lord ; but that the world is grown
honest.

Ham. Then is doomsday near. But your news is
not true.2 [Let me question more in particular. What
have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of
fortune, that she sends you to prison hither ?

Guil. Prison, my lord !

Ham. Denmark's a prison.

l This speech is abridged thus in the quartos: —

"I will leave him and my daughter. My lord.
I will take my leave of you."

9 All within crotchets is wanting in the quarto copies.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 297

Ros. Then is the world one.

Ham. A goodly one ; in which there are many
confines, wards, and dungeons ; Denmark being one
of the worst.

Ros. We think not so, my lord.

Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you ; for there is
nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so ;
to me it is a prison.

Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one ; 'tis
too narrow for your mind.

Ham. O God ! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and
count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that
I have bad dreams.

Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition ; for the
very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow
of a dream.

Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.

Ros. Truly ; and I hold ambition of so airy and light
a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.

Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies ; and our mon-
archs, and outstretched heroes, the beggars' shadows.1
Shall we to the court ? for, by my fay,2 1 cannot reason.

Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you.

Ham. No such matter ; I will not sort you with the
rest of my servants ; for, to speak to you like an honest
man, I am most dreadfully attended.] But, in the
beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore ?3

Ros. To visit you, my lord ; no other occasion.

Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks ;
but I thank you ; and sure, dear friends, my thanks
are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for ? Is
it your own inclining ? Is it a free visitation ? Come,
come ; deal justly with me : come, come ; nay, speak.

Guil. What should we say, my lord ?

Ham. Any thing — but to the purpose. You were

1 " If ambition is such an unsubstantial thing, then are our beggars
(who at least can dream of greatness) the only things of substance, and
monarchs and heroes, though appearing to fill such mighty space with
their ambition, but the shadows of the beggars' dreams."

2 By my faith.

3 What do you at Elsinore ?

VOL. vii. 38

298 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II.

sent for ; and there is a kind of confession in jour looks,
which your modesties have not craft enough to color.
I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

Ros. To what end, my lord ?

Ham. That you must teach me. But let me con
jure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the con-
sonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-
preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer
could charge you withal, be even and direct with me,
whether you were sent for, or no.

Ros. What say you ? [To GUILDENSTERN.

Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you; l [Aside;] — if
you love me, hold not off.

Gv.il. My lord, we were sent for.

Ham. I will tell you why ; so shall my anticipation
prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
and queen moult no feather. I have of late (but
wherefore, I know not) lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises ; and, indeed, it goes so heavily
with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth,
seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excel
lent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging
firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,
why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and
pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work
is a man ! How noble in reason ! how infinite in
faculties ! in form, and moving, how express and ad
mirable ! in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension,
how like a god ! the beauty of the world ! the paragon
of animals ! And yet, to me. what is this quintessence
of dust ? Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither ;
though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.

Ros. My lord, there is no such stuff in my thoughts.

Ham. Why did you laugh, then, when I said, Man
delights not me ?

Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man,
what lenten 9 entertainment the players shall receive

1 To have an eye of any one is to have an inkling of his purpose. The
first quarto has : — " Nay, then I see how the wind sets."

2 See Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 5.

SC. II. j HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 299

from you. We coted l them on the way ; and hither are
they coming, to offer you service.

Ham. He that plays the king, shall be welcome ; his
majesty shall have tribute of me : the adventurous
knight shall use his foil and target. The lover shall

o o

not sigh gratis ; the humorous man shall end his part
in peace ; [the clown shall make those laugh, whose
lungs are tickled o'the sere;2] and the lady shall say
her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't. — -
What players are they ?

Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight
in, the tragedians of the city.

Ham. How chances it, they travel ? 3 Their resi
dence, both in reputation and profit, was better both
ways.

Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means
of the late innovation.

Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did
when I was in the city ? Are they so followed ?

Ros. No, indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it ? Do they grow rusty ?

Ros. Nay, their endeavor keeps in the wonted pace.
But there is, sir, an aiery 4 of children, little eyases,5

1 To cote is to pass alongside, to pass by.

2 The first quarto reads : — " The clown shall make them laugh that are
tickled in the lungs." The same expression occurs in Howard's Defen-
sative against the Poyson of supposed Prophecies, 1620, folio : — " Dis
covering the moods and humors of the vulgar sort to be so loose and tickle
of the seare."

3 In the first quarto copy this passage stands thus : —

" Ham. How comes it that they travel ? do they grow restie ?

" Gt7. No, my lord, their reputation holds as it was wont.

" Ham. How then ?

" Gil. I' faith, my lord, novelty carries it away, for the principal pub-
licke audience that came to them, are turned to private plays, and to the
humor of children."

By this we may understand what Rosencrantz means in saying " their
inhibition comes of the late innovation" i. e. their prevention or hinder-
ance comes from the late innovation of companies of juvenile performers,
as the children of the revels, &c. — They have not relaxed in their
endeavors to please, but this (brood) aiery of little children are now the
fashion, and have so abused the common stages as to deter many from
frequenting them.

4 i. e. a brood.

5 i. e. young nestlings ; properly young, unfledged hawks.

300 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II.

that cry out on the top of the question,1 and are most
tyrannically clapped for't. These are now the fashion ;
and so berattle the common stages, (so they call them,)
that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose quills,
and dare scarce come thither.

Ham. What, are they children ? who maintains
them? how are they escoted ?2 Will they pursue the
quality,3 no longer than they can sing ? 4 will they not
say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to
common players, (as it is most like, if their means are
no better,) their writers do them wrong, to make them
exclaim against their own succession ?

Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both
sides ; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre 5 them
on to controversy. There was, for a while, no money
bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went
to cuffs in the question.
Ham. Is it possible ?

Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of
brains.

Ham. Do the boys carry it away?
Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord ; Hercules and his
load too.6

Ham. It is not very strange ; for my uncle is king
of Denmark, and those that would make mouths 7 at
him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, a
hundred ducats apiece, for his picture in little. 'Sblood,
there is something in this more than natural, if philos
ophy could find it out. [Flourish of trumpets within.
Guil. There are the players.

1 Question is speech, conversation. The meaning may therefore be,
tney cry out on the top of their voice.
~ i. c. paid.

3 i. e. profession. Mr. Gifford has remarked, that "this word seems
more peculiarly appropriated to the profession of a player by our old
writers."

4 " Ao longer than they can sing," i. e. no longer than they keep the
voices of boys, and sing in the choir.

5 i. e. set them on ; a phrase borrowed from the setting on a dog.

6 i. e. carry all the world before them : there is, perhaps, an allusion to
the Globe theatre, the sign of which is said to have been Hercules carry
ing the globe.

7 First copy, " mops and moes ; " folio, " mowes."

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 301

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore.
Your hands. Come, then ; the appurtenance of wel
come is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply 1 with
you in this garb ; lest my extent to the players, which,
I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more ap
pear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome ;
but my uncle-father, and aunt-mother, are deceived.

GuiL In what, my dear lord ?

Ham. I am but mad north-north-west; when the
wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.2

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen !

Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern ; — and you too ; — at
each ear a hearer. That great baby, you see there, is
not yet out of his swaddling-clouts.

Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them ;
for, they say, an old man is twice a child.

Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me of the
players ; mark it. — You say right, sir ; o' Monday
morning ; 'twas then, indeed.

Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When
Roscius was an actor in Rome,

Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.

Ham. Buzz, buzz !

Pol. Upon my honor,

Ham. Then came each actor on his ass,

Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-

1 Hamlet has received his old schoolfellows with somewhat of the
coldness of suspicion hitherto, but he now remembers that this is not
courteous : he therefore rouses himself to give them a proper reception.
" Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Four hands. Come, then ;
the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me embrace
you in this fashion ; lest I should seem to give you a less courteous
reception than I give the players, to whom I must behave with at least
exterior politeness." To comply with was to embrace.

2 The original form of this proverb was, undoubtedly, " To know a hawk
from a hernshaw ; " that is, to know a hawk from the heron which it pursues.
The corruption is said to be as old as the time of Shakspeare.

30-2 HAMLET,, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II,

pastoral, [tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-
pastoral,1] scene individable, or poem unlimited. —
Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light for
the law of writ2 and the liberty. These are the only
men.

Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, — what a treasure
hadst thou !

Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord?

Ham. Why — One fair daughter, and no more,
Tlie which he loved passing well?

Pol. Still on my daughter. [Aside.

Ham. Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah ?

Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a
daughter, that I love passing well.

Ham. Nay, that follows not.

Pol. What follows then, my lord ?

Ham. Why, As hy lot, God wot, and then, you
know, // came to pass, As most like it was, — The
first row of the pious chanson 4 will show you more ;
for look, my abridgment5 comes.

Enter four or five Players.

You are welcome, masters ; welcome, all. — I am glad
to see thee well ; — welcome, good friends. — O old
friend! Why, thy face is valanced6 since I saw thee
last. Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark ? — W7hat !

1 The words within crotchets are not in the quartos.

2 Writ for writing a common abbreviation, which is not yet obsolete.
The quarto of 1603 reads, " for the law hath writ." The modern editions
have pointed this passage in the following manner : — " Scene individable,
or poem unlimited ; Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light.
For the law of writ, and the liberty, these are the only men."

:i An imperfect copy of this ballad, of " Jephtha, Judge of Israel," was
given to Dr. Percy by Steevens. See Reliqucs, ed. 175)4, vol. i. p. 189.
There is a more correct copy in Mr. Evans's Old Ballads, vol. i. p. 7.
ed. 1810.

4 Pons chanson is the reading of the first folio ; three of the quartos
read pious ; and the newly-discovered quarto of 1603, " the godly ballad ; "
which puts an end to controversy upon the subject. The first row is the
first column. Every one is acquainted with the form of these old carols
ond ballads.

'» The folio reads, "abridgments come." My abridgment, i. e. who

.,110 to abridge my talk.

6 i. e. fringed with a beard.

SC. II.] HAMLET. PRINCE OF DENMARK. 303

my young lady and mistress ! By-'r-lady, your ladyship
is nearer to heaven, than when F saw you last, by the
altitude of a chopine.1 'Pray God, your voice, like a
piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the
ring.2 — Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't
like French falconers, fly at any thing we see ; we'll
have a speech straight. Come, give us a taste of your
(juality ; come, a passionate speech.

1 Play. What speech, my lord ?

Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech, once — but
it was never acted ; or, if it was, not above once ; for
the play, I remember, pleased not the million ; 3 'twas
caviare to the general ; 4 but it was (as I received it,
and others, whose judgments, in such matters, cried in
the top of mine) an excellent play ; well digested in
the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning.
I remember one said there were no sallets in the lines,5
to make the matter savory ; nor no matter in the phrase,
that might indite the author of affection ; 6 but called
it, an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by
very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it
I chiefly loved ; 'twas ./Eneas' tale to Dido; and there
about of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's
slaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line ;
let me see, let me see ; —

The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast^ —
'tis not so ; it begins with Pyrrhus.

1 A chopine, a kind of high shoe, or rather clog, worn by the Spanish
and Italian ladies, and adopted at one time as a fashion by the English.
Coriate describes those worn by the Venetians as some of them " half a
yard high."

2 The old gold coin was thin, and liable to crack. There was a ring
or circle on it, within which the sovereign's head, &c. was placed; if the
crack extended beyond this ring, it was rendered uncurrent.

3 The quarto of 1803, vulgar.

4 " 'Twas caviare to the general" Caviare is said to be the pickled
roes of certain fish of the sturgeon kind, called in Italy caviale, and much
used there and in other Catholic countries. Great quantities were pre
pared on the river Volga formerly. As a dish of high seasoning and
peculiar flavor, it was not relished by the mam/, i. e. the general.

5 The force of this phrase will appear from the following passage, cited
by Steevens, from A Banquet of Jests, 1665: — "For junkets, joci, and for
sallets, sales."

6 i. c. impeach the author with affectation in his style.

304 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT H.

The rugged Pyrrhus, — he whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble,
When he lay couched in the ominous horse, —
Hath now this dread and black complexion smeared
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
Now he is total gules ; 1 horridly tricked
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons ;
Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
To their lord^s murder. Roasted in wrath, and fire,
And thus oversized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks. So proceed you.
Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken ; with good
accent, and good discretion.
1 Play. Anon he finds him
Striking too short at Greeks ; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command. Unequal matched,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives ; in rage, strikes wide ;
But with the whiff and ivind of his fell sword
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his base ; and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus^ ear ; for lo ! his sword,
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seemed i' the air to stick.
So as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood ;
And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.

But, as we often see, against some storm,
A silence in the heavens, the rack 2 stand still,
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
As hush as death ; anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region ; so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
A roused vengeance sets him new a-work ;
And never did the Cy clops'* hammers fall

1 Gules, i. e. red, in the language of heraldry. To trick is to color.
a The rack is the clouds.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 305

On Mars' s armor, forged for proof eterne,
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam. —

Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune ! All you gods,
In general synod, take away her power ;
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel.
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends!
Pol. This is too long.

Ham. It shall to the barber's, with jour beard.-^
'Pr'ythee, say on. — He's for a jig,1 or a tale of bawdry,
or he sleeps. — Say on : come to Hecuba.

1 Play. But who, ah, woe! had seen the mobled*

queen

Ham. The mobled queen ?

Pol. That's good ; mobled queen is good.

1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, threatening the

flames

With bisson 3 rheum ; a clout upon that head,
Where late the diadem stood ; and, for a robe,
About her lank and all o^er-teemed loins,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up,
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steeped,
''Gainst fortune's state would treason have pronounced.
But if the gods themselves did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs ;
The instant burst of clamor that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all,)
Would have made milch4 the burning eye of heaven,
And passion in the gods.

1 Giga, in Italian, was a fiddle, or crowd ; gigaro, a fiddler, or minstrel.
Hence a jig (first written gigge, though pronounced with a g soft, after
the Italian) was a ballad, or ditty, sung to the fiddle. There are several
of the old ballads and dialogues called jigs in the Harleian Collection.

2 The folio reads inobled, an evident error of the press, for mobled,
which means mujfled.

3 Bisson is blind. Bisson rheum, therefore, is blinding tears.

4 i. e. mild, tender-hearted. — TODD. — By a hardy poetical license, this
expression means, " Would have filled with tears the burning eye of
heaven." To have "made passion in the gods" would have been to
move them to compassion.

VOL. vii. 39

306 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II.

Pol. Look, whether he has not turned his color,
and has tears in's eyes. — 'Prythee, no more.

Ham. 'Tis well ; I'll have thee speak out the rest
of this soon. — Good my lord, will you see the players
well bestowed ? Do you hear, let them be well used ;
for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles, of the
time. After your death you were better have a bad
epitaph, than their ill report while you live.

Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their
desert.

Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better. Use
every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape
whipping ? Use them after your own honor and
dignity ; the less they deserve, the more merit is in
your bounty. Take them in.

Pol. Come, sirs.

[Exit POLONIUS, with some of the Players.

Ham. Follow him, friends ; we'll hear a play to
morrow'. — Dost thou hear me, old friend ; can you
play the murder of Gonzago ?

1 Play. Ay, my lord.

Ham. We'll have it to-morrow night. You could,
for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen
lines, which I would set down, and insert in't? could
you not?

1 Play. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Very well. — Follow that lord ; and look you
mock him not. [Exit Player.] — My good friends, [To
Ros. and GUIL.] I'll leave you till night; you are
welcome to Elsinore.

Ros. Good my lord !

[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

Ham. Ay, so, good bye to you ; — now I am alone.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I !
Is it not monstrous, that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That from her working, all his visage wanned ; 1

1 The folio reads warmed, which reading1 Steevens contended for ; but
purely no one can doubt, who considers the context, that ivanned is the
Poet's word.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 307

Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting

With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing ?

For Hecuba !

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weep for her ? What would he do,

Had he the motive and the cue l for passion,

That I have ? He would drown the stage with

tears,

And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ;
Make rnad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet I,

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams,2 unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing ; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property, and most dear life,
A damned defeat3 was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ?
Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i' the

throat,

As deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ?
Ha!

Why, I should take it ; for it cannot be,
But I am pigeon-livered, and lack gall
To make oppression bitter ; or, ere this,
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain !
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain ! 4
Why, what an ass am I ! This is most brave ;

1 i. e. the hint or prompt word; the word or sign given by the prompte •
for a player to enter on his part.

2 John-a-dreams, or John-a-droynes, was a common term for any dream
ing or droning simpleton. Unpregnant is not quickened or properly im
pressed with.

3 Defeat here signifies destruction. It was frequently used in the sense
of undo or tab- awmj by our old writers.

4 Kindkss is unnatural.

308 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT II

That I, the son of a dear father murdered,1

Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,

Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,

And fall a cursing like a very drab,

A scullion !

Fie upon't ! foh ! About my brains ! 2 Humph ! I have

heard,

That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,3
Have, by the very cunning of the scene,
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaimed their malefactions ;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle ; I'll observe his looks ;
I'll tent him4 to the quick ; if he do blench,5
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen,
May be a devil ; and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with such spirits,)
Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds
More relative 6 than this. The play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. [Exit.

1 The first folio reads thus : —

" Oh vengeance !

Who ? What an ass am I ! I sure this is most brave,
That I the sonne of the Deere murthered."

The quarto of 1G04 omits " Oh vengeance," and reads, " a deere mur
thered ; " the quarto of 1603, " that 1 the son of my dear father."

2 " About my brains " is nothing more than " to ivork, my brains."
Steevens quotes the following from Hey wood's Iron Age: —

" My brain about again ! for thou hast found
New projects now to work on."

3 A number of instances of the kind are collected by Thomas Hey wood
in his Apology for Actors.

4 To tent was to probe, to search a wound.

5 To blench is to shrink or start. Vide Winter's Tale, Act i. Sc. &

6 i. e. more near, more immediately connected. The first quarto reads
" I will have sounder proofs."

SC. L] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 309

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Room in the Castle.

Enter King, Queen, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSEN-
CRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.

Xing. And can you, by no drift of conference,1
Get from him why he puts on this confusion ;
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy ?

Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted ;
But from what cause he will by no means speak.

Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded ;
But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true state.

Queen. Did he receive you well ?

Ros. Most like a gentleman.

GuiL But with much forcing of his disposition.

Ros. Niggard of question ; but, of our demands,
Most free in his reply.2

Queen. Did you assay him

To any pastime ?

Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
We o'er-raught3 on the way. Of these we told him;
And there did seem in him a kind of joy
To hear of it. They are about the court ;
And, as I think, they have already order
This night to play before him.

Pol. JTis most true ;

And he beseeched me to entreat your majesties,
To hear and see the matter.

King. With all my heart ; and it doth much content
me

1 Folio — circumstance.

2 « Slow to begin conversation, but free enough in answering our de
mands."

3 i. e. reached, overtook.

310 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT 111

To hear him so inclined.

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,

And drive his purpose on to these delights.

Ros, We shall, my lord.

[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too ;

For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither ;
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront1 Ophelia.

Her father and myself (lawful espials9)
Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge ;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
1 ft be the affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he suffers for.

Queen. I shall obey you ;

And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish,
That your good beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope, your virtues
Will bring him to his wonted way again,
To both your honors.

Oph. Madam, I wish it may.

[Exit Queen.

Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. — Gracious, so please

you,
We will bestow3 ourselves. — Read on this book ;

[To OPHELIA,

That show of such an exercise may color
Your loneliness.4 — We are oft to blame in this, —
'Tis too much proved, — that with devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.

King. O 'tis too true ! how smart

A lash that speech doth give my conscience !
The harlot's cheek, beamied with plastering art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,

1 i. o. meet, encounter her.

2 " Lawful espials ,•"' that is, lawful spies.

! "Bestow our.st'lvv.-- " is here used for hide o? place ourselves.
4 Quarto — lowliness.

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 311

Than is my deed to my most painted word.
O heavy burden ! [ Aside.

Pol. I hear him coming ; let's withdraw, my lord.
[Exeunt King and POLONIUS.

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question : —
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them ? — To die, — to sleep, —
No more; — and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die ; — to sleep ; —
To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there's the rub ;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,1
Must give us pause. There's the respect,2
That makes calamity of so long life ;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,3
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,4
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus5 make
With a bare bodkin ? 6 Who would fardels 7 bear,
To grunt8 and sweat under a weary life ;
But that the dread of something after death, —
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn

1 "This mortal coil ;" that is, " The tumult and bustle of this life."

2 i. e. the consideration. This is Shakspeare's most usual sense cf
the word.

3 Tiiue, for the time, is a very usual expression with our old writers.

4 Folio — " the poor man's contumely."

5 The allusion is to the term quietus est, used in settling accounts at
exchequer audits.

(> " Bo'lkin was the ancient term for a small dagger."

7 Packs, burdens.

8 To grunt appears to have conveyed no vulgar or low image to the
ear of our ancestors, as many quotations from the old translations of the
classics would show.

312 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III.

No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ;
And enterprises of great pith ! and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,2
And lose the name of action. — Soft you, now !
The fair Ophelia. — Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.

Oph. Good my lord,

How does your honor for this many a day ?

Ham. I humbly thank you; well.

Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours.
That I have longed long to re-deliver ;
I pray you, now receive them.

Ham. No, not I ;

I never gave you aught.

Oph. My honored lord, you know right well, you

did;

And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed
As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost,
Take these again ; for to the noble mind,
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.

Ham. Ha, ha ! are you honest ?

Oph. My lord?

Ham. Are you fair ?

Oph. What means your lordship ?

Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty
should admit no discourse to your beauty.3

Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce
than with honesty ?

Ham. Ay, truly ; for the power of beauty will sooner

1 Quartos — pitch. 2 Folio — away.

3 i. e. "your honesty should not admit your beauty to any discourse
with her." The first quarto reads, "Your beauty should admit no dis
course to your honesty;" that of 1604, "You should admit no dis
course to your beauty."

SC. 1.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 313

transform honesty from what it is to a bawd, than the
force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness;
this was some time a paradox, but now the time gives
it proof. I did love you once.

Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Ham. You should not have believed me ; for virtue
cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of
it. I loved you not.

Oph. I was the more deceived.

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery ; why wouldst thou
be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent
honest ; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that
it were better my mother had not borne me. I am
very proud, revengeful, ambitious ; with more offences
at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in,1 im
agination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
What should such fellows as I do crawling between
earth and heaven ! We are arrant knaves, all ; believe
none of us. Go thv ways to a nunnery. Where's
your father ?

Oph. At home, my lord.

Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him ; that he may
play the fool no where 2 but in's own house. Farewell.

Oph. O, help him, you sweet Heavens !

Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague
for thy dowry. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as
snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a
nunnery; farewell.3 Or, if thou wilt needs marry,
marry a fool ; for wise men know well enough, what
monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and
quickly too. Farewell.

Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him !

Ham. I have heard of your paintings 4 too, well
enough. God hath given you one face, and you make
yourselves another ; you jig, you amble, and you lisp.

1 "Than I have thoughts to put them in." To put "a thing into
thought," is " to think on it."

2 Folio — way.

3 Folio — Go, farewell.

4 The folio, for paintings, has prattlings ; and for face has pace.

VOL. vii. 40

314 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III

and nickname God's creatures, and make jour wan
tonness jour ignorance.1 Goto; I'll no more of it;
it hath made me mad. I saj, we will have no more
marriages : those that are married alreadj, all hut one,
shall live ; the rest shall keep as they are. To a
nunnery, go. [Exit HAMLET

Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown !
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword ;
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers ! quite, quite down !
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That sucked the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,

O '

Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune,2 and harsh;
That unmatched form and feature of blown youth,
Blasted with ecstasy.3 O, woe is me !
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see !

Re-enter King and POLONIUS.

King. Love ! his affections do not that way tend ;
Nor what he spake, though it lacked form a little,
Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,
O'er which his melancholy sits en brood ;
And, I do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose,4
Will be some danger ; which for to prevent,
I have, in quick determination,

Thus set it down. He shall with speed to England,
For the demand of our neglected tribute.
Haply, the seas, and countries different,
With variable objects, shall expel
This something-settled matter in his heart ;
Whereon his brains still beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himself. What think you on't ?

1 " You mistake by wanton affectation, and pretend to mistake by
ignorance.''1

2 Quarto — time.

3 Ecstasy is alienation of the mind. Vide Tempest, Act iii. Sc. 3.

4 To disclose was the ancient term for hatching birds of any kind ; from
the Fr. esclos.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 315

I

Pol. It shall do well ; but yet, I do believe,
The origin and commencement of his grief
Sprung from neglected iove.— How now, Ophelia ?
You need not tell us what lord Hamlet said ;
We heard it all. — My lord, do as you please ;
But, if you hold it fit after the play,
Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
To show his grief; let her be round 1 with him ;
And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conference. If she find him not,
To England send him ; or confine him, where
Your wisdom best shall think.

King. It shall be so ;

Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Hall in the same.

Enter HAMLET, and certain Players.

Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced
it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth
it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-
crier spoke my lines.2 Nor do not saw the air too
much with your hand, thus ; but use all gently ; for in
the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirl
wind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a
temperance, that may give it smoothness. O, it offends
me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fel
low tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the
ears of the groundlings ; 3 who, for the most part, are
capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and

1 See note on Act ii. Sc. 2.

2 The first quarto has, "I'd rather hear a town-bull bellow, than such a
fellow speak my lines."

3 The first quarto reads, " of the ignorant." Our ancient theatres
were far from the commodious, elegant structures which later times have
seen. The pit was an unfloored space, in the area of the house, sunk
considerably beneath the level of the stage ; and it was necessary to ele
vate the head very much to get a view of the performance. Hence this
part of the audience were called groundlings.

316 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III.

noise. 1 would have such a fellow whipped for o'er-
doing Termagant ; ] it out-herods Herod. 'Pray you,
avoid it.

1 Play. I warrant jour honor.

Ham. Be not too tame neither ; but let jour own
discretion be jour tutor. Suit the action to the word,
the word to the action ; with this special observance,
that, jou o'erstep not the modesty of nature ; for any
thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose
end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as
'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her
own feature1, scorn her own image, and the very age
and body of the time, his form, and pressure.2 Now
this, overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the
unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve ;
the censure of which one, must, in your allowance,3
o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
players, that I have seen play, — and heard others praise,
and that highly, — not to speak it profanely, that, nei
ther having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of
Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bel
lowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen
had made men, and not made them well, they imitated
humanity so abominably.

1 Play. I hope we have reformed that indifferently
with us.

Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those that
play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for
them ; for there be of them, that will themselves laugh,
to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh
too; though, in the mean time, some necessary ques
tion 4 of the play be then to be considered. That's

1 Termagaunt is the name given in old romances to the tempestuous
god of the Saracens.

2 Pressure is impression, resemblance.

3 i. e. approval, estimation.

4 The quarto 1(X)3, " Point in the play then to be observed" After
wards is added, " And then you have some again that keeps one suit of
jests, as a man is known by one suit of apparel ; and gentlemen quotes
his jests down in their tables before they come to the piny, as thus : —
Cannot you stay till I eat my porridge ? and you owe me a quarter's wages ',
and your leer is sour; and blabbering with his lips: And thus keeping

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 317

villanous ; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the
fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.

[Exeunt Players.

Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.

How now, my lord ! will the king hear this piece of work ?
Pol. And the queen too, and that presently.
Ham. Bid the players make haste. —

[Exit POLONIUS.

Will you two help to hasten them ?
Both. Ay, my lord.

[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
Ham. What, ho ; Horatio !

Enter HORATIO.

Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service.

Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.

Hor. O my dear lord,

Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter ;

For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,
To feed, and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be

flattered ?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ;
And crook the pregnant ! hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear ?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish her election,
She hath sealed thee for herself. For thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing ;
A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks ; and blessed are those,
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,2

in his cinque a pace of jests ; when, God knows, the warme Clown cannot
make a jest unless by chance, as the blind man catcheth a hare : Masters,
tell him of it."

1 Pregnant, quick, ready. 2 Quarto 1604 — " co-medled."

318 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT Hi.

That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger

To sound what stop she please. Give me that, man

That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him

In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,

As I do thee. — Something too much of this. —

There is a play to-night before the king;

One scene of it comes near the circumstance,

Which I have told thee, of my father's death.

I pr'ythee, when thou seest that act afoot,

Even with the very comment of thy soul

Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt

Do not itself unkennel in one speech,

It is a damned ghost that we have; seen ;

And my imaginations are as foul

As Vulcan's stithy.1 Give him heedful note ;

For I mine eyes will rivet to his face ; 2

And, after, we will both our judgments join

In censure3 of his seeming.

//or. Well, my lord ;

If he steal aught, the \vhilst this play is playing,
And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

Ham. They are coming to the play ; I must be idle :
Get you a place.

Danish march. A flourish. Enter King, Queen, Po-
LOMUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN,
and others.

King. How fares our cousin Hamlet ?

Ham. Excellent, i' faith ; of the chameleon's dish.
I eat the air, promise-crammed; you cannot feed
capons so.

1 Vulcan's stithy is Vulcan's workshop or smithy.

2 Here the first quarto has : —

"And if he do not hlcncli and change at that,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen ;
Horatio, have a care, observe him well.

Hor. My lord, mine eyes shall still be on his face,
And not the smallest alteration
That shall appear in him, but I shall note it."

3 i. e. judgment, opinion.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 319

King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet;
these words are not mine.

Ham. No, nor mine now. My lord, — you played
once in the university, you say? [To POLONIUS.

Pol. That did I, my lord ; and was accounted a
good actor.

Ham. And what did you enact ?

Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar. I W7as killed i' the
Capitol ; Brutus killed me.1

Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital
a calf there. — Be the players ready ?

Ros. Ay, my lord; they stay2 upon your patience.

Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

Ham. No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.

Pol. O ho ! do you mark that ? [To the King.

Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap ?

[Lying down at OPHELIA'S feet.

Oph. No, my lord.

Ham. I mean my head upon your lap ?

Oph. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Do you think I meant contrary3 matters ?

Oph. I think nothing, my lord.

Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids'

O

legs.

Oph. What is, my lord ?

Ham. Nothing.

Oph. You are merry, my lord.

Ham. Who, I ?

Oph. Ay, my lore.

Ham. O ! youi only jig-maker.4 What should a
man do, but be merry ? for, look you, how cheerfully
my mother looks, and my father died within these two
hours.

Oph. Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.

1 A Latin play, on the subject of Caesar's death, was performed at
Christ's Church, in Oxford, in 1582.
~ i. e. "they wr"t upon your suffcrcm"" or ivill"

3 This is the reading of the quarto iG03. The quarto 1004, and the
folio, read countty.

4 It may here be added that a Jig- sometimes signified a sprightly dance,
as at present.

320 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III

Ham. So long? Nay, then let the devil wear black,
for I'll have a suit of sables.1 O Heavens ! die two
months ago, and not forgotten yet ? Then there's hope
a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.
But, by'r-lady, he must build churches then ; or else
shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse ; 2
whose epitaph is, For, O, for, 0, the hobby-horse is
forgot.

Trumpets sound. The Dumb Shoto3 follows.

Enter a King and a Queen, very lovingly ; the Queen
embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes
show of protestation unto him. He takes her up, and
declines his head upon her neck ; lays him down
upon a bank of flowers ; she, seeing him asleep, leaves
him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown,
kisses it, and pours poison in the King's ears, and
exit. The Queen returns ; finds the King dead, and
makes passionate action. The Poisoner, with some
two or three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament
with her. The dead body is carried away. The
Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts ; she seems loath
and unwilling awhile; but, in the end, accepts his
love. [Exeunt.

Oph. What means this, my lord ?
Ham. Marry, this is miching malicho ; 4 it means
mischief.

1 i. e. a dress ornamented with the rich fur of that name, said to be the
skin of the sable martin. Hamlet meant to use the word equivocally.

2 The hobby-horse was driven from his station by the Puritans, as an
impious and pagan superstition, but restored after the promulgation of
the Book of Sports. The hobby-horse was formed of a pasteboard horse's
head, and probably a light frame made of wicker work to form the hinder
parts ; this was fastened round the body of a man, and covered with a
footcloth, which nearly reached the ground, and concealed the legs of the
performer, who displayed his antic equestrian skill, and performed various
juggling tricks, ivigh-hie-ing, or neighing, to the no small delight of the
bystanders. Vide. vol. 2, p. 101.

3 This dumb show appears to be superfluous, and even incongruous ;
for as the murder is there circumstantially represented, the king ought
to have been struck with it then, without waiting for the dialogue.

4 Miching malicho is lurking mischief, or evil doing. To mich, for to

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 321

Oph. Belike, this show imports the argument of the
play.

Enter Prologue.

Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players
cannot keep counsel ; they'll tell all.

Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant ?

Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be
not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you
what it means.

Oph. You are naught, you are naught ; I'll mark
the play.

Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,

Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.

Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring ?

Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord,

Ham. As woman's love.

Enter a King and a Queen.

P. King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart1 gone

round

Neptune's salt wash, and Tellus' orbed ground ;
And thirty dozen moons, with borrowed sheen,
About the world have times twelve thirties been ;
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

P. Queen. So many journeys may the sun and

moon

Make us again count o'er, ere love be done !
But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
So far from cheer, and from your former state,
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must ;

skulk, to lurk, was an old English verb in common use in Shakspeare'a
time ; and malicho or malhecho, misdeed, he has borrowed from the Spanish.
1 Cart, car, or chariot, were used indiscriminately for any carriage,
formerly.

VOL. VII. 41

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III.

For women fear too much, even as they love , 1

And women's fear and love hold quantity ;

In neither aught, or in extremity.

Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know ;

And as my love is sized, my fear is so.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear .

Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

P. King. 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and

shortly too ;

My operant 2 powers their functions leave to do ;
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honored, beloved ; and, happily, one as kind
For husband shalt thou

P. Queen. O, confound the rest !

Such love must needs be treason in my breast ;
In second husband let me be accursed !
None wed the second, but who killed the first.

Ham. That's wormwood.

P. Queen. The instances,3 that second marriage

move,

Are base respects of thrift, but none of love ;
A second time I kill my husband dead,
When second husband kisses me in bed.

P. King. I do believe you think what now you speak ;
But, what we do determine oft we break.
Purpose is but, the slave to memory ;
Of violent birth, but poor validity ;
Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
Most necessary 'tis, that we forget
To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt.
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of either grief or joy
Their own enactures4 with themselves destroy;

1 This line is o\Ji.ted in the folio. There appears to have been a line
omitted in the quarto which should have rhymed to this.

2 i. e. active.

3 Instances are motives. See note on Kin<j Richard TTT. Act iii. Sc. 2

4 i. e. their own determinations are revoked in their abatement

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 323

Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament ;

Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.

This world is not for aye ; nor 'tis not strange,

That even our loves should with our fortunes change :

For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,

Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.

The great man down, you mark his favorite flies ;

The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.

And hitherto doth love on fortune tend ;

For who not needs, shall never lack a friend ;

And who in want a hollow friend doth try,

Directly seasons him his enemy.

But, orderly to end where I begun, —

Our wills and fates do so contrary run,

That our devices still are overthrown ;

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

So think thou wilt no second husband wed ;

But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.

P. Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven

light !

Sport and repose lock from me, day and night !
To desperation turn my trust and hope !
An anchor's ] cheer in prison be my scope !
Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well, and it destroy !
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife.
! | If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

Ham. If she should break it now, [To OPH.

P. King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me

here a while ;

My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep. [Sleeps.

P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain :

And never come mischance between us twain ! [Exit,

Ham. Madam, how like you this play ?

Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.

King. Have you heard the argument ? Is there no
offence in't ?

1 Anchors for anchor ef s.

324 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT Hi.

Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest ; no
offence i' the world.

King. What do you call the play ?

Ham. The mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically.1
This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna ;
Gonzago is the duke's name ; 2 his wife, Baptista ; you
shall see anon ; 'tis a knavish piece of work. But what
of that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it
touches us not. Let the galled jade wince, our withers

are unwrung.-

Enter LUCIANUS.

This is one Lucianus, nephew7 to the king.

Oph. You are as good as a chorus,3 my lord.

Ham. I could interpret between you and your love,
if I could see the puppets dallying.

Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my
edge.

Oph. Still better, and worse.

Ham. So you mistake 4 your husbands. — Begin,
murderer ; — leave thy damnable faces, and begin.
Come ; —

The croaking raven

Doth bellow for revenge.

Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time

agreeing ;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing ;

1 First quarto — trapically. It is evident that a pun was intended.

- " Gonzago is the duke's name ; his wife, Baptista ; all the old copies
read thus. Yet in the dumb show we have " Enter a King and Queen ;"
and at the end of this speech, « Lucianus, nephew to the King1." This
seeming inconsistency, however, may be reconciled. Though the inter
lude is the image of the murder of the duke of Vienna, or, in other words,
founded upon that story, the Poet might make the principal person in his
fable a king. Baptista is never used singly by the Italians, being uni
formly compounded with Giani for Giovanni. It is needless to remark
that it is always the name of a man.

3 The use to which Shakspcare put the chorus may be seen in King
Henry V. Every motion or puppet-show was accompanied by an inter
preter or showman.

4 The first quarto — " So you mast take your husband." Hamlet puns
upon the word mistake ; " So you mis-take or take your husbands amiss
for better and worse."

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 325

Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.

[Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears.
Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his estate.
His name's Gonzago; the story is extant, and written
in very choice Italian : you shall see, anon, how the mur
derer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
Oph. The king rises.
Ham. What ! frighted with false fire !
Queen. How fares my lord ?
Pol. Give o'er the play.
King. Give me some light ; away !
Pol. Lights, lights, lights !

[Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO
Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,

The hart ungalled play ;
For some must watch, while some must sleep ;

Thus runs the world away. —

Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, (if the rest
of my fortunes turn Turk * with me,) with two Provin
cial roses on my razed2 shoes, get me a fellowship in a
cry 3 of players, sir ?
Hor. Half a share.4
Ham. A whole one, I.

For thou dost know, O Damon dear,

This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
A very, very — peacock.5

1 To turn Turk was a familiar phrase for any violent change in con
dition or character.

2 " Provincial roses on my razed shoes." Provincial roses took tneir
name from Provins, in Lower Brie, and not from Provence. Razed shoes
are most probably embroidered shoes. The quarto reads raced. To race,
or rase, was to stripe.

3 It was usual to call a pack of hounds a cry ; it is here humorously
applied to a troop or company of players.

4 The players were paid not by salaries, but by shares or portions of
the profit, according to merit.

5 « A very, very— peacock" The old copies read paiock, and paiocke.
The peacock was as proverbially used for a proud fool as the laptving for
a silly one.

326 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III

HOT. You might have rhymed.

Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for
a thousand pound. Didst perceive ?

Hor. Very well, my lord.

Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning,

Hor. I did very well note him.

Ham. Ah, ha ! — come, some music ; come, the
recorders.1 —

For if the king like not the comedy,
Why, then, belike, — he likes it not, perdy.2

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDEN STERN.

Come, some music.

Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with
you.

Ham. Sir, a whole history.

Guil. The king, sir,

Ham. Ay, sir, what of him ?

Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous distempered.

Ham. With drink, sir ?

Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer,
to signify this to the doctor ; for, for me to put him to
his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into more
choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some
frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.

Ham. I am tame, sir ;• — pronounce.

Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great afflic
tion of spirit, hath sent me to you.

Ham. You arc welcome.

Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the
right, breed. If it shall please you to make me a
wholesome answer, I will do vour mother's cormnand-

1 " The rccordtrs." It is difficult to settle exactly the form of this in
strument; old writers, in general, make no distinction between a flute, a
pipe, and a recorder; but Hawkins has shown clearly, that the flute and
the recorder were distinct instruments.

2 Perdy is a corruption of the French par Dieu.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 327

ment ; if not, your pardon, and my return shall be the
end of my business.

Ham. Sir, I cannot.

Guil. What, my lord ?

Ham. Make you a wholesome answer ; my wit's
diseased. But, sir, such answer as I can make, you
shall command ; or, rather, as you say, my mother :
therefore no more, but to the matter. My mother,
you say,

Ros. Then thus she says : Your behavior hath
struck her into amazement and admiration.

Ham. O wonderful son, that can so astonish a
mother! — But is there no sequel at the heels of this
mother's admiration ? Impart.

Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet,
ere you go to bed.

Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother.
Have you any further trade with us ?

Ros. My lord, you once did love me.

Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers.1

Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distem
per ? You do, surely, but bar the door upon your own
liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.

Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice
of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?

Ham. Ay, sir, but While the grass groius, — the
proverb is something musty.

Enter the Players, with recorders.

O, the recorders ; — let me see one. — To withdmw
with you.2 — Why do you go about to recover the wind
of me,3 as if you would drive me into a toil ?

1 By these hands.

2 " To withdraw with you." Malone added here a stage direction.
\Taking Guild, aside.] Steevens thinks it an answer to a motion Guil-
denstern had used, for Hamlet to withdraw with him. Perhaps it means
no more than « to draw back with you," to leave that scent or trail. It is
a hunting term, like that which follows.

3 This term is borrowed from hunting, and means, to take advantage
of the animal pursued, by getting to the windward of it, that it may not
scent its pursuers.

328 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT Ml.

Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love
is too unmannerly.1

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you
play upon this pipe ?

Guil. My lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guil. Believe me, I cannot.

Ham. I do beseech you.

Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.

Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages 9
with your fingers and thumb, ^ive it breath with your
mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.
Look you, these are the stops.

Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance
of harmony ; I have not the skill.

Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing
you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you
would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out
the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from
my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there
is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ;
yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think
I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me
what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you
cannot play upon me.

Enter POLONIUS.

God bless you, sir !

Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you,
and presently.

Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in
shape of a camel ?

Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.

Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel.

1 Hamlet may say, with propriety, " I do not well understand that."
Perhaps Guildenstern means, " If my duty to the king makes me too bold,
my love to you makes me importunate even to rudeness."

2 The ventages are the holes of the pipe. The stops means the mode
of stopping those ventages to produce notes.

SC. III.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 329

Pol. It is backed like a weasel.

Ham. Or, like a whale ?

Pol. Very like a whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by.
— They fool me to the top of my bent.1 — I will come
by and by.

Pol. I will say so. [Exit POLONIUS.

Ham. By and by is easily said. — Leave me, friends.
[Exeunt Ros., GUIL., HOR., &c.
'Tis now the very witching time of night ;
When church-yards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business as the day2
Would quake to look on. Soft ; now to my mother, —

0 heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom ;
Let me be cruel, not unnatural.

1 will speak daggers to her, but use none ;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites ;
How in my words soever she be shent,3

To give them seals, never, my soul, consent ! [Exit.

SCENE III. A Room in the same.

Enter King, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.

King. I like him not ; nor stands it safe with us,
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you ;
I your commission will forthwith despatch,
And he to England shall along with you.

1 As far as the bow will admit of being bent without breaking.

2 The quarto reads: —

"And do such business as the bitter day," &c.

3 To shend is to injure, whether by reproof, blows, or otherwise. Shak-
speare generally uses shent for reproved, threatened with angry words.
"To give his words seals" is therefore to carry his punishment beyond
reproof. The allusion is to the sealing a deed to render it effective. The
quarto of 1603 : —

" I Avill speak daggers ; those sharp words brano; spent,

To do her wrong my soul shall ne'er consent "
VOL. vii. 42

330 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III

The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunacies.

Guil. We will ourselves provide.

Most holy and religious fear it is,
To keep those many many bodies safe,
That live, and feed, upon your majesty.

Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armor of the mind,
To keep itself from 'noyance ; but much more
That spirit, upon whose weal l depend and rest
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it, with it. It is a massy wheel,
Fixed on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortised and adjoined ; which, when it falls,
Each small annexmeiit, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.

King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage ;
For we will fetters put upon2 this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.

Ros. Guil. We will haste us.

[Exeunt Ros. and GUIL.

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet.
Behind the arras3 I'll convey myself,
To hear the process ; I'll warrant she'll tax him home ,
And, as you said, — and wisely was it said,—
'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
The speech, of vantage.4 Fare you well, my liege ;

1 Folio reads " spirits." 2 Quarto — "about."

3 See King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

4 Warburton explains of vantage, "by some opportunity of secret
observation." Perhaps " of vantage" in Shakspcaro's language, is for
advantage, commodi causa.

SC. III.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 331

I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.

King. Thanks, dear my lord.

[Exit POLONIUS

0, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ;
It hath the primal, eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder ! — Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will ; 1
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent ;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens,
To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence ?
And what's in prayer, but this twofold force, —
To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,
Or pardoned, being down ? Then I'll look up ;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder! —
That cannot be ; since I am still possessed
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardoned, and retain the offence ?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above ;
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature ; and we ourselves compelled,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then ? what rests ?
Try what repentance can. What can it not ?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent ?
O wretched state ! O bosom, black as death !
O limed2 soul ; that, struggling to be free,

1 i. e. " though I arn not only willing, but strongly inclined to pray
my guilt prevents me."

2 i. e. caught as with birdlime.

332 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III.

Art more engaged ! Help, angels, make assay !
Bow, stubborn knees ! and, heart, with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ;
All may be well ! [Retires and kneels.

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying ;
And now I'll do 't ; and so he goes to heaven :
And so am I revenged ? That would be scanned.1
A villain kills my father ; and, for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.

Why, this is hire and salary,2 not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread ;
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And, how his audit stands, who knows, save Heaven ?
But, in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him. And am I then revenged,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and seasoned for his passage ?
No.

Up, sword ; and know thou a more horrid hent.3
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage ;
Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed ;
At gaming, swearing ; or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't :
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven ;
And that his soul may be as damned, and black,
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays ;
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit.

The King rises and advances.

o

King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below ;
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go.4 [Exit.

1 "That would be scanned" — that requires consideration.

2 The quarto reads, base, and silly.

3 Shakspeare has used the verh to hent, to take, to lay hold on, else
where ; but the word is here used as a substantive, for hold or opportunity.

4 First quarto : —

" No king on earth is safe, if God's his foe."

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 333

SCENE IV. Another Room in the same.

Enter Queen and POLONIUS.

Pol. He will come straight. Look, you lay home

to him ;

Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear with ;
And that your grace hath screened and stood between
Much heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here.
'Pray you, be round with him.1

Queen. I'll warrant you ;

Fear me not ; — withdraw, I hear him coming.

[POLONIUS hides himself.

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter ?

Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended

Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.

Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet ?

Ham. What's the matter now ?

Queen. Have you forgot me ?

Ham. No, by the rood, not so.

You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife ;
And, — 'would it were not so ! — you are my mother.

Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak.

Ham. Come, come, and sit you down ; you shall

not budge ;

You go not, till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.

Queen. What wilt thou do ? thou wilt not murder

me ?

Help, help, ho !
i

1 The folio here interposes the following speech : —

" Ham. [ Within.] Mother, mother, mother."

The circumstance of Polonius hiding himself behind the arras, and the
manner of his death, are found in the old black letter prose Hystory of
Hamblett.

334 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III.

Pol. [Behind.'] What, ho ! help !

Ham. How now ! a rat ?

[Draws.
Dead, for a ducat, dead.

[HAMLET makes a pass through the arras.

Pol. [Behind.] O, I am slain.

[Falls and dies.

Queen. O me, what hast thou done ?

Ham. Nay, I know not.

Is it the king ?

[Lifts up the arras, and draws forth POLONIUS.

Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this !

Ham. A bloody deed ; almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

Queen. As kill a king !

Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word.—

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell !

[To POLONIUS

I took thee for thy better ; take thy fortune :
Thou find'st to be too busy, is some danger. —
Leave wringing of your hands. Peace ; sit you

down,

And let me wring your heart ; for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff;
If damned custom have not brazed it so,
That it be proof and bulwark against sense.

Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy

tongue
In noise so rude against me ?

Ham. Such an act,

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ;
Calls virtue, hypocrite ; takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there ; makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths : O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul ; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words. Heaven's face doth glow ;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK, 335

With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.1

Queen. Ah me, what act,

That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ? 2

Ham. Look here upon this picture, and on this ;
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See. what a grace was seated on this brow !
Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station 3 like the herald Mercury,
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ;
A combination, and a form, indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man.
This was your husband. — Look you now, what follows.
Here is your husband ; like a mildewed ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother.4 Have you eyes ?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ?
You cannot call it love ; for, at your age,
The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment. And what judgment
Would step from this to this ? [Sense5 sure you have,
Else could you not have motion : but, sure, that sense
Is apoplexed ; for madness would not err ;
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thralled,
But it reserved some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference.] What devil was't,

1 The quarto of 1604 gives this passage thus : —

Heaven's face does glow

O'er this solidity and compound mass
With heated visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act."

2 Index is here used in one of its least common senses, as a preparatory
sJfdch in dumb shoiv, prefixed to the act of a play.

3 It is evident, from this passage, that whole-length pictures of the
two kings were formerly introduced. Station does not mean the spot
where any one is placed, but the act of standing, the attitude.

4 Here the allusion is to Pharaoh's dream, Genesis, xli.

5 Sense here is not used for reason ; but for sensation, feeling, or per
ception .

336 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT 111.

That thus hath cozened you at hood man blind ? 1

[Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,

Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,

Or but a sickly part of one true sense,

Could not so mope.2]

O shame ! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell,

If thou canst mutine 3 in a matron's bones,

To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,

And melt in her own fire ; 4 proclaim no shame,

When the compulsive ardor gives the charge ;

Since frost itself as actively doth burn,

And reason panders will.

Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more.

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ;
And there I see such black and grained 5 spots
As will not leave their tinct.

Ham. Nay, but to live

In the rank sweat of an enseamed G bed ;
Stewed in corruption ; honeying, and making love
Over the nasty sty ;

Queen. O, speak to me no more ;

These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears.
No more, sweet Hamlet.

Ham. A murderer, and a villain ;
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord ; — a vice 7 of kings ;

1 " The hoodwinke play, or hoodman blind, in some place, called blind-
manbuf." — BareL It is hob-man-blind in the quarto of 1603.

2 i. e. could not be so dull and stupid.

3 Mutine for mutiny. This is the old form of the verb.

4 Thus in the quarto of 1603 :—

" Why, appetite with you is in the wane,
Your blood runs backward now from whence it came ;
Who'll chide hot blood within a virgin's heart,
When lust shall dwell within a matron's breast ? "

5 " Grained spots ;" that is, dyed in grain, deeply imbued.

6 i. e. greasy, rank, gross. It is a term borrowed from falconry. The
seam of any animal was the fat or tallow ; and a hawk was said to be
enseamed Avhen she was too fat or gross for flight. It should be remarked,
that the quarto of 1603 reads incestuous, as does that of 1611.

7 i. e. " the low mimic, the counterfeit, a dizard, or common vice and
jester, counterfeiting the gestures of any man." — Fleming. Shakspeare
afterwards calls him a king of shreds and patches, alluding to the parti
colored habit of the vice or fool in a play.

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 337

A cutpurse of the empire and the rule ;
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket !

Queen. No more.

Enter Ghost.1

Ham. A king

Of shreds and patches. —
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards ! — What would your gracious
figure ?

Queen. Alas, he's mad.

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, lapsed in time and passion,2 lets go by
The important acting of your dread command ?
O, say !

Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look ! amazement on thy mother sits.
O, step between her and her fighting soul ;
Conceit3 in weakest bodies strongest works.
Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ham. How is it with you, lady ?

Queen. Alas, how is't with you ?
That you do bend your eyes on vacancy,
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse ?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep ;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,4
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look ?

1 The first quarto adds, " in his night-gown"

2 « Lapsed in time and passion." Johnson explains this — " That having
suffered time to slip, and passion to coo/, lets go by," &c. This explana
tion is confirmed by the quarto of 1603 : —

" Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That I thus long have let revenge slip by ? "

3 Conceit, for conception, imagination.

4 The hair is excrementitious ; that is, without life or sensatioH.

VOL. vii. 43

338 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III.

Ham. On him ! on him ! — Look you, how pale he

glares !

His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable.1 — Do not look upon me ;
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert
My stern affects : 2 then what I have to do
Will want true color ; tears, perchance, for blood.

Queen. To whom do you speak this ?

Ham. Do you see nothing there ?

Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all, that is, I see.

Ham. Nor did you nothing hear ?

Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves.

Ham. Why, look you, there ! look, how it steals

away !

My father, in his habit as he lived !
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal !

[Exit Ghost.

Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain.
This bodiless creation ecstasy3
Is very cunning in.

Ham. Ecstasy !

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music. It is not madness,
That I have uttered ; bring me to the test,
And I the matter will reword ; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks.
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ;
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,

1 Capable for susceptible, intelligent.

2 « My stern affects." All former editions read—" My stern effects."
We should certainly read affects, i. e. dispositions, affections of the mind ;
as in that disputed passage of Othello : — " the young affects in me defunct."

3 This speech of the queen has the following remarkable variation in
the quarto of 1603:—

" Alas, it is the weakness of thy brain
Which makes thy tongue to blazon thy heart's grief;
But as I have a soul, I swear to heaven,
I never knew of this most horrid murder :
But, Hamlet, this is only fantasy,
And for my love forget these idle fits."

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 339

Infects unseen. Confess yourself to Heaven ;

Repent what's past ; avoid what is to come ;

And do not spread the compost on the weeds,

To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue.

For in the fatness of these pursy times,

Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg ;

Yea, curb1 and woo, for leave to do him good.

Queen. O Hamlet ! thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night ; but go not to my uncle's bed ;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
[That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this ; 2
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,
That aptly is put on.] Refrain to-night ; 3
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence ; [4 the next more easy ;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either quell the devil or throw him out
With wondrous potency.] Once more, good night!
And when you are desirous to be blessed,
I'll blessing beg of you. — For this same lord,

[Pointing to POLONIUS.

I do repent. But Heaven hath pleased it so, —
To punish me with this, and this with me ; 6

1 i. e. bow. " Courber (Fr.), to bow."

2 Dr. Thirlby proposed to read, " Of habits evil" Steevens would read,
(i Or habits' devil." It is evident that there is an intended opposition
between angel and devil; but the passage will, perhaps, bear explaining as
it stands : — " That monster custom, who devours all sense (feeling, or per
ception) of devilish habits, is angel yet in this," &c. This passage might,
perhaps, have been as well omitted, after the example of the editors of
the folio.

3 Here the quarto of 1603 has two remarkable lines : —

" And, mother, but assist me in revenge,
And in his death your infamy shall die."

4 "The next more easy," &c. This passage, as far as potency, is also
omitted in the folio. In the line

"And either quell the devil, or throw him out,"
the Avord quell is wanting in the old copy.

5 " To punish me by making me the instrument of this man's death, and
o punish this man by my hand."

340 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT III

That I must be their scourge and minister.

I will bestow him, and will answer well

The death I gave him. So, again, good night ! —

I must be cruel, only to be kind ;

Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. —

But one word more, good lady.

Queen. What shall I do ?

Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do.
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed ;
Pinch wanton on your cheek ; call you his mouse ; 1
And let him for a pair of reechy 2 kisses,
Or paddling in your neck with his damned fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good, you let him know ;
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,3
Such dear concernings hide ? who would do so?
No, in despite of sense, and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly ; and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions,4 in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.

Queen. Be thou assured, if words be made of

breath,

And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.5

Ham. I must to England ; 6 you know that?

1 Mouse, a term of endearment formerly.

2 i. e. reeky or fumant. Reeky and reechy are the same word, and
always applied to any vaporous exhalation.

3 For paddock, a toad, see Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 1 ; and for gib, a cat, see
Krag Henry IV. Part I. Act. i. Sc. 2.

* To try conclusions is to put to proof, or try experiments.
5 The quarto of 1603 has here another remarkable variation : —
" Hamlet, I vow by that Majesty

That knows our thoughts and looks into our hearts,

I will conceal, consent, and do my best,

What stratagem soe'er thou shalt devise."

G The manner in which Hamlet came to know that he was to be sent
to England is not developed. He expresses surprise when the king
mentions it in a future scene ; but his design of passing for a madman
may account for this.

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 341

Queen. Alack,

I had forgot ; 'tis so concluded on.

Ham. [There's letters sealed ; and my two school
fellows,1 —

Whom I will trust, as I will adders fanged, —
They bear the mandate ; they must swreep my way,
And marshal me to knavery. Let it work ;
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petar ; 2 and it shall go hard,
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet. — ]
This man shall set me packing.
I'll lug the guts into the neighbor-room.3
Mother, good night. — Indeed, this counsellor
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish, prating knave.
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
Good night, mother.

[Exeunt severally ; HAMLET dragging in
POLONIUS.

1 This and the eight following verses are omitted in the folio.

2 Hoist with his own petar. Hoist for hoised. To hoyse was the old
verb. A petar was a kind of mortar used to blow up gates.

3 Hamlet has purposely chosen gross expressions and coarse metaphors,
throughout the interview with his mother, perhaps to make his appeal to
her feelings the more forcible. The word guts was not anciently so
offensive to delicacy as it is at present; the courtly Lyly has used it;
Stanyhurst often in his translation of Virgil, and Chapman in his version
of the sixth Iliad.

342 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [AOT IV

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The same.

Enter King, Queen, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDEN-

STERN.

King. There's matter in these sighs ; these profound

heaves :

You must translate ; 'tis fit we understand them.
Where is your son ?

Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.1 —

[To ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN,

who go out.
Ah,2 my good lord, what have I seen to-night !

King. What, Gertrude ? How does Hamlet ?

Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both

contend

Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat! a rat!
And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
The unseen good old man.

King. O heavy deed !

It had been so with us, had we been there.
His liberty is full of threats to all ;
To you yourself, to us, to every one.
Alas ! how shall this bloody deed be answered ?
It will be laid to us, whose providence
Should have kept, short, restrained, and out of haunt,3
This mad young man : but, so much was our love,
We would not understand what was most fit ;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,
To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone ?

1 This line does not appear in the folio, in which Guildenstern and
Rosencrantz are not brought on the stage at all.

2 Quarto — Ah, mine own lord.

3 Out of haunt means out of company.

SO. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 343

Queen. To draw apart the body he hath killed ;
O'er whom his very madness, like some ore.
Among a mineral ! of metals base,
Shows itself pure ; he weeps for what is done.

Xing. O Gertrude, come away !
The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed
We must, with all our majesty and skill,
Both countenance and excuse. — Ho ! Guildenstern !

Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

Friends both, go join you with some further aid.
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
And from his mother's closet hath he dragged him.
Go, seek him out ; speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.

[Exeunt Ros. and GUIL.

Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
And let them know, both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done; [so, haply, slander, —
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,2
Transports his poisoned shot, may miss our name,
And hit the woundless air.3] — O, come away !
My soul is full of discord and dismay. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Another Room in the same.

Enter HAMLET.

Ham. Safely stowed, — [Ros. &c. within.

Hamlet! lord Hamlet !] But soft ! 4 — what noise ? who
calls on Hamlet ? O, here they come.

1 Shakspeare uses ore for gold, and mineral for mine. Bullokar and
Blount both define "or or ore, gold; of a golden color." And the Cam
bridge Dictionary, 1594, under the Latin word mineralia, will show how
the English mineral came to be used for a mine. Thus also in The
Golden Remaines of Hales of Eton, 1693 : — "Controversies of the times,
like spirits in the minerals, with all their labor nothing is done."

2 The blank was the mark at which shots or arrows were directed.

3 The passage in brackets is not in the folio. The words " So, haply,
slander," are also omitted in the quartos ; they were supplied by Theobald

4 " But soft ! " these two words are not in the folio.

344 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead
body ?

Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.

Ros. Tell us where 'tis ; that we may take it

thence,
And bear it to the chapel.

Ham. Do not believe it.

Ros. Believe what ?

Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine
own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge ! — What
replication should be made by the son of a king ?

Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord ?

Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the king's counte
nance, his rewards, his authorities.1 But such officers
do the king best services in the end. He keeps them,
like an ape doth nuts,2 in the corner of his jaw ; first
mouthed to be last swallowed. When he needs what
you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge,
you shall be dry again.

Ros. I understand you not, my lord.

Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps m
a foolish ear.

Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is,
and go with us to the king.

Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is
not with the body.3 The king is a thing

Guil. A thing, my lord ?

Ham. Of nothing; bring me to him. Hide fox,
and all after.4 [Exeunt.

1 Here the quarto 1603 inserts "that makes his liberality your store
house, but," &c.

2 The omission of the words " doth n?</.<?," in the old copies, had ob
scured this passage. Dr. Farmer proposed to read " like an ape an apple."
The words are now supplied from the newly-discovered quarto of 1603.

3 Hamlet affects obscurity. His meaning may be, The king is a body
without a kingly soul, a thing — of nothing."

4 "Hide fox, and all after." This was a juvenile sport, most probably
what is now called huop, or hide and seek, in which one child hides him
self, and the rest run all after, seeking him. The words are not in the
quarto.

SC. III.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 345

SCENE III. Another Room in the same.

Enter King, attended

King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the body.
How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose !
Yet must not we put the strong law on him.
He's loved of the distracted multitude,
Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes ;
And, where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weighed,
But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
This sudden sending him away must seem
Deliberate pause. Diseases, desperate grown,
By desperate appliance are relieved,

Enter ROSENCRANTZ.

Or not at all. — How now ? what hath befallen ?

Ros. Where the dead body is bestowed, my lord,
We cannot get from him.

King. But where is he ?

Ros. Without, my lord ; guarded, to know your
pleasure.

King. Bring him before us.

Ros. Ho, Guildenstern ! bring in my lord.

Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN.

King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

Ham. At supper.

King. At supper? Where?

Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten ; a
certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him.
Your worm is your only emperor for diet ; we fat all
creatures else, to fat us ; and we fat ourselves for
maggots. Your fat king, and your lean beggar, is but
variable service ; two dishes, but to one table ; that's
the end.

[King. Alas, alas!
VOL. vn. 44

346 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV.

Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath ate
of a king ; and eat of the fish that hath fed of that
worm.1]

King. What dost thou mean by this ?

Ham. Nothing, but to show you how a king may go
a progress 2 through the guts of a beggar.

King. Where is Polonius ?

Ham. In heaven ; send thither to see. If your
messenger find him not there, seek him i'the other
place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not within
this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs
into the lobby.

King. Go seek him there. [To some Attendants.

Ham. He will stay till you come.

[Exeunt Attendants.

King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial

safety, —

Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
For that which thou hast done, — must send thee hence
With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself;
The bark is ready, and the wind at help,3
The associates tend,4 and every thing is bent
For England.

Ham. For England ?

King. Ay, Hamlet.

Ham. Good.

King. So is it, if thou know'st our purposes.

Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them.- — But, come ,
for England ! — Farewell, dear mother

King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.

Ham. My mother. Father and mother is man and
wife ; man and wife is one flesh ; and so, my mother.
Come, for England. [Exit.

King. Follow him at foot ; tempt him with speed
aboard ;

1 " Alas, alas ! " This speech and the following one of Hamlet, are
omitted in the folio.

2 A progress is a journey.

3 i. e. in modern phrase " the wind serves" or is rignt to aid or help you
on your way.

4 i. e. attend.

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 341

Delay it not, I'll have him hence to-night.
Away ; for every thing is sealed and done
That else leans on the affair. Pray you, make haste.

[Exeunt Ros. and GUIL.

And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,
(As my great power thereof may give thee sense ;
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
Pays homage to us,) thou mayst not. coldly set1
Our sovereign process ; which imports at full,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England ;
For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done,
Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin.2 [Exit.

SCENE IV. A Plain in Denmark.

Enter FORTINBRAS, and Forces, marching.

For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king ;
Tell him, that, by his license, Fortinbras
Claims3 the conveyance of a promised march
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
If that his majesty would aught with us,
We shall express our duty in his eye,4
And let him know so.

Cap. I will do't, my lord.

For. Go softly on.

[Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Forces.

1 To set formerly meant to estimate. "To sette, or tell the pryce;
fBstimare"

2 The folio reads :—

"Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun."

3 The quarto reads craves.

4 Eye for presence. It was the formulary for the royal presence.

348 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV.

Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, frc.

[ l Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these ?

Cap. They are of Norway, sir.

Ham. How purposed, sir,

I pray you ?

Cap. Against some part of Poland.

Ham. Who

Commands them, sir?

Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.

Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
Or for some frontier ?

Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition,
We go to gain a little patch of ground,
That hath in it no profit but the name.
To pay five dueats, five, I would not, farm it ;
Xor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole,
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it.

Cap. Yes, 'tis already garrisoned.

Ham. Two thousand souls, and- twenty thousand

dueats,

Will not debate the question of this straw.
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace ;
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
Why the man dies. — I humbly thank you, sir.

Cap. God be wi' you, sir. [Exit Captain.

Rus. Will't please you go, my lord ?

Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little before.

[Exeunt Ros. and GUIL.
How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man,
If his chief good, and market2 of his time,
Be but to sleep and feed ? a beast, no more.
Sure, lid that made us with such large discourse,3

1 The remainder of this scene is omitted in the folio.

2 i. e. profit.

3 See note on Act i. Sc. 2. It is evident that discursive powers of
mind are meant. Bishop Wilkins makes ratiocination and discourse con
vertible terms.

SC. IV.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 349

Looking before, and after, gave us not

That capability and godlike reason

To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be

Bestial oblivion, or some craven1 scruple

Of thinking too precisely on the event, —

A thought, which, quartered, hath but one part wisdom,

And, ever, three parts coward, — I do not know

Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do;

Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means,

To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me.

Witness, this army of such mass and charge,

Led by a delicate and tender prince ;

Whose spirit, with divine ambition puffed,

Makes mouths at the invisible event ;

Exposing what is mortal, and unsure,

To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare,

Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great,

Is, not to stir without great argument ;

But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,

When honor's at the stake. How stand I, then,

That have a father killed, a mother stained,

Excitements of my reason, and my blood,2

And let all sleep ? while, to my shame, I see

The imminent death of twenty thousand men,

That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,

Go to their graves like beds ; fight for a plot3

Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,

Which is not tomb enough, and continent,4

To hide the slain ? — O, from this time forth,

My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! [Exit.

1 Craven is recreant, cowardly. It may be traced from crant, creant,
the old French word for an act of submission.

2 Provocations which excite both my reason and my passions to ven
geance.

3 A plot of ground.

4 Continent means that which comprehends or incloses.

350 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV,

SCENE V. Elsinore. A Room in the Castle.

Enter Queen and HORATIO.

Queen. 1 will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate ; indeed, distract ;
Her mood will needs be pitied.

Queen. What would she have?

Hor. She speaks much of her father ; says she

hears
There's tricks i'the world; and hems, and beats her

heart ;

Spurns enviously1 at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection ; 2 they aim3 at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts ;
Which, as her winks and nods, and gestures yield them,
Indeed, would make one think there might4 be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.5

Queen. 'Twere good she were spoken with ; for

she may strew

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Let her come in.6 [Exit HORATIO.

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss ; 7
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
Ft spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

1 " Enviously, and spitefully," are treated as synonymous by our old
writers.

2 To collection, that is, to gather or deduce consequences from such
premises.

3 The quartos read yawn. To aim is to guess.

4 Folio — would.

5 Unhappily, that is, mischievously.

c The three first lines of this speech are given to Horatio in the
quarto.

7 Shakspeare is not singular in his use of amiss as a substantive.
Several instances are adduced by Steevens, and more by Mr. Nares, in
his Glossary. " Each toy " is each trifle.

SC. V.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 353

Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed ;

[He answers.]

So would I /ta' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.

King. How long hath she been thus ?

Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient :
but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should
lay him i'the cold ground. My brother shall know of
it, and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come,
my coach ! Good night, ladies ; good night, sweet
ladies ; good night, good night. [Exit.

King. Follow her close ! give her good watch, 1
pray you. [Exit HORATIO.

O ! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death. And now behold,
O Gertrude, Gertrude,1

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions ! First, her father slain ;
Next, your son gone ; and he most violent author
Of his own just remove. The*people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death ; and we have done but

greenly,2

In hugger-mugger 3 to inter him. Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment ;
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France ;
Feeds on his wonder,4 keeps himself in clouds,

1 In the quarto 1603, the king says : —

" Ah, pretty wretch ! this is a change indeed :
O time, how swiftly runs our joys away !
Content on earth was never certain bred,
To-day we laugh and live, to-morrow dead."

2 Greenly is unskilfully, with inexperience.

3 i. e. secretly. " Clandestinare, to hide or conceal by stealth, or in kug
ger-mugger." — Florio.

4 The quarto reads—" Keeps on his wonder ; " the folio—" Feeds on
this wonder."

VOL. vii. 45

354 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV.

And wants riot buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death ;
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece,1 in many places
Gives me superfluous death ! [A noise within.

Queen. Alack ! what noise is this ? 2

Enter a Gentleman.

King. Attend.

Where are my Switzers?3 Let them guard the door.
What is the matter ?

Gent. Save yourself, my lord ;

.The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste,
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your oflicers ! The rabble call him lord ;
And, as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word,
They cry, Choose we ; Laertes shall be king ! 4
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
Laertes shall be king, Laertes king !

Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry !
O this is counter,5 you false Danish dogs.

King. The doors are broke. [Noise within.

1 A murdering-piece, or murderer, was a small piece of artillery ; in
French mcurtriere. It took its name from the loop-holes and embrasures
in towers and fortifications, which were so called. Case-shot, filled with
small bullets, nails, old iron, £,c., was often used in these murderers.

2 The speech of the queen is omitted in the quartos.

3 Switzers, for royal guards. The Swiss were then, as since, mercenary
soldiers of any nation that could afford to pay them.

4 The meaning of this contested passage appears to me this : — " The
rabble call him lord ; and (as if the world were now but to begin, as if
antiquity and custom, which are the ratifiers and props of every word,
were forgotten) this rabble cry, Choose we" &c.

5 Hounds are said to run counter when they are upon a false scent, or
hunt it by the heel, running backward and mistaking the course of the
game.

SC. V.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 355

Enter LAERTES, armed ; Danes following.

Laer. Where is this king ? — Sirs, stand you all
without.

Danes. No, let's come in.

Laer. I pray you, give me leave.

Danes. We will, we will.

[They retire without the door.

Laer. I thank you ; — keep the door. — O thou vile

king,
Give me my father.

Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.

Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims me

bastard ;

Cries, cuckold, to my father ; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste, unsmirched1 brow
Of my true mother.

King. What is the cause, Laertes,

That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ? —
Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person ;
There's such divinity doth hedge 2 a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will. — Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incensed. — Let him go, Gertrude ; —
Speak, man.

Laer. Where is my father ?

King. Dead.

Queen. But not by him.

King. Let him demand his fill.

Laer. How came he dead ? I'll not be juggled with.
To hell, allegiance ! vows, to the blackest devil !
Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit !
I dare damnation. To this point I stand, —
That both the worlds I give to negligence,3
Let come what comes ; only I'll be revenged
Most thoroughly for my father.

King. Who shall stay you ?

1 Unsmirched is unsullied, spotless. See Act i. Sc. 3.

2 Quarto 1603— wall.

3 « But let the frame of things disjoint loth the worlds suffer/' — .lacbeth.

356 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV.

Laer. My will, not all the world's ;
And, for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.

King. Good Laertes,

If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge,
That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
Winner and loser ?

Laer. None but his enemies.

King. Will you know them, then :

Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms ;
And like the kind, life-rendering pelican,
Repast them with my blood.1

King. Why, now you speak

Like a good child, and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
And am most sensibly 2 in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce3
As day does to your eye.

Danes. [WithinJ] Let her come in.

Laer. How now ! what noise is that ?

Enter OPHELIA, fantastically dressed with straws and

flowers.

O heat, dry up my brains ! tears seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye ! —
By Heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight,
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May !
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia !
O Heavens ! is't possible, a youn^ maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life ?
Nature is fine 4 in love ; and where 'tis fine,

1 The folio reads politician instead of pelican.

2 Folio — sensible.

3 Pierce is the reading of the folio. The quarto has !/?e«r, an awkward
contraction of appear.

4 " Nature \sftne in love." The three concluding lines of this speech
are not in the quarto. The meaning appears to be, Nature is refined by
love, the senses are rendered more ethereal, and some precious portions
of the mental energies fly off, or are sent after the beloved object.

SC. V.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 357

It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

Oph. They bore him barefaced on the bier ;
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny ;
And in his grave rained many a tear ; —

Fare you well, my dove !

Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade

revenge,
It could not move thus.

Oph. You must sing, Down-a-down, an you call him
a-down-a. O, how the wheel l becomes it ! it is the
false steward, that stole his master's daughter.

Laer. This nothing's more than matter.

Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance ;
'pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's
for thoughts.2

Laer. A document in madness ; thoughts and re
membrance fitted.

Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines ; —
there's rue for you; and here's some for me ; — we may
call it herb of grace o' Sundays ; — you may wear your
rue with a difference. — There's a daisy. — I would give
you some violets ; but they withered all, when my
father died. — They say he made a good end

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy, — [Sings.

Laer. Thought3 and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favor, and to prettiness.

Oph. And will he not come again f [Sings.

And will he not come again ?

1 The wheel is the burden of a ballad, from the Latin rota, a round,
which is usually accompanied with a burden frequently repeated. Stee-
vens forgot to note from whence he made the following extract, though
he knew it was from the preface to some black letter collection of songs
or sonnets: — " The song was accounted a good one, though it was not
moche graced with the wheele, which in no wise accorded with the subject
matter thereof."

2 Our ancestors gave to almost every flower and plant its emblematic
meaning.

3 Thought, among our ancestors, was used for grief, care, pensiveness.

358 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV

No, no, he is dead ;

Go to thy death-bed,

He never will come again.

His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll ;

He is gone, he is gone,

And we cast away moan ;
God 'a mercy on his soul ! 1

And of all Christian souls ! I pray God. God be wi'
you ! [Exit OPHELIA.

Laer. Do you see this, O God ?

King. Laertes, I must commune 2 with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me.
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touched, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours.
To you in satisfaction ; but, if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labor with your soul
To give it due content.3

Laer. Let this be so ;

His means of death, his obscure funeral,4 —

1 Poor Ophelia, in her madness, remembers the ends of many old popular
ballads. " Bonny Robin " appears to have been a favorite. The editors
have not traced the present one. It is introduced in Eastward Hoe,
written by Jonson, Chapman, and Marston, where some parts of this play
are apparently burlesqued.

2 The folio reads common, which is only a varied orthography of the
same word. " We will devise and common of these matters." — Bard

3 Thus in the quarto 1G03 : —

" King. Content you, good Laertes, for a time,
Although T know your grief is as a flood,
Brim full of sorrow ; but forbear a while,
And think already the revenge is done
On him that makes you such a hapless son.

" Lac r. You have prevailed, my lord, a while I strive
To bury grief within a tomb of wrath,
Which once unhearsed, then the world shall hear
Laertes had a father he held dear.

" King. No more of that, ere many days be done
You shall hear that you do not dream upon."

4 Folio — burial.

SO. VI.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 359

No trophy, sword, nor hatchment, o'er his bones,
No noble rite, nor formal ostentation,1 —
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call't in question.

King. So you shall ;

And where the offence is, let the great axe fall.
1 pray you, go with me. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI. Another Room in the same

Enter HORATIO and a Servant.

Hor. What are they that would speak with me ?

Serv. Sailors,2 sir

They say they have letters for you.

Hor. Let them come in. —

[Exit Servant.

I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from lord Hamlet.

Enter Sailors.

1 Sail. God bless you, sir.

Hor. Let him bless thee too.

1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a
letter for you, sir. It comes 3 from the ambassador that
was bound for England ; if your name be Horatio, as I
am let to know it is.

Hor. [Reads.'] Horatio, when thou shalt have over
looked this, give these fellows some means to the king ;
they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old at
sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase.
Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled

1 The funerals of knights and persons of rank were made with great
ceremony, formerly. Sir John Hawkins observes that " the sword, the
helmet, the gauntlet, spurs, and tabard, are still hung over the grave
of every knight."

2 Quarto — sea-faring men, 3 Folio — it came.

360 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV.

valor; and in the grapple I boarded them. On the in
stant, they got clear of our ship ; so I alone became their
prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves of
mercy ; but they knew what they did ; I am to do a good
turn for them. Let the king have the letters I have sent ;
and repair thou to me with as much haste as thou
wouldstfly death. I have words to speak in thine l car,
will make thee dumb ; yet are they much too light for the
bore 2 of the matter. These good fellows will bring tJiee

<J O */ o

where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their
course for England ; of them I have much to tell thec.

He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.

Come, I will give you way for these your letters ;

And do't the speedier, that you may direct me

To him from whom you brought them. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Another Room in the same.

Enter King and LAERTES.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance

seal,

And you must put me in your heart for friend ;
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
That he, which hath your noble father slain,
Pursued my life.

Laer. It well appears. — But tell me,

Why you proceeded not against these feats,
So crimeful3 and so capital in nature.
As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things else,
You mainly were stirred up.

King. O, for two special reasons ;

Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinewed,
But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his
mother,

1 Folio — your.

2 The bore is the caliber of a gun.

3 Quarto — Criminal. Greatness is omitted in the folio.

SC. VI.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 361

Lives almost by his looks ; and for myself,
(My virtue, or my plague, be it either which,)
She is so conjunctive to my life and soul,
That, ns the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive,
Why to a public count I might not go,
Is, the great love the general gender l bear him ;
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gyves to graces ; 2 so that my arrows,
Too slightly timbered for so loud a wind,3
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aimed them.

Laer. And so have I a noble father lost ;
A sister driven into desperate terms ;
Whose worth, if praises may go back again,4
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections. — But my revenge will come.

King. Break not your sleeps for that ; you must not

think

That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more.
I loved your father, and we love ourself ;
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine, —
How now ! 5 what news ?

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet.

This to your majesty ; this to the queen.
Kins. From Hamlet ! who brought them ?

o O

Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say ; I saw them not ,

1 i. e. the " common race of the people."

~ " Would, like the spring which turneth wood to stone, convert his
fetters into graces." The quarto reads work for would.

3 " Lighie shaftes cannot stand in a rough loind." — Jlsckam's Toxophilus,
1589, p. 57.

-i " If I may praise what has been, but is now to be found no more."

5 How now! is omitted in the quarto : as is Utters in the next speech.
VOL. vii. 46

362 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV

They were given me by Claudio ; he received them
Of him that brought them.1

King. Laertes, you shall hear them. —

Leave us. [Exit Messenger.

[Reads.] High and mighty, you shall know I am set
naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave
to see your kingly eyes ; when I shall, first asking your
pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden
and more strange return. Hamlet.

What should this mean ! Are all the rest come back ?
Or is it some abuse, and no such thing ?

Laer. Know you the hand ?

King. :Tis Hamlet's character. Naked, — •

And, in a postscript here, he says, alone.
Can you advise me ?

Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come ,
It warms the very sickness in my heart,
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Thus diddest thou.

King. If it be so, Laertes,

As how should it be so ? how otherwise ? —
Will you be ruled by me ?

Laer. Ay, my lord ;

So you will not o'errule me to a peace.2

King. To thine own peace. If he be now re

turned, —

As checking 3 at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it, — I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall.
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe ;
Cut even his mother shall unchargc the practice.
And call it accident.

Laer. My lord, I will be ruled ;

1 Tnis hemistich is not in the folio.

2 First folio, omitting ./??/, my lord, reads, If so you'll not o'er-rule me to
a pence.

:i To check, to hold off, or fly from, as in fear. It is a phrase taken
from falconry.

SC. VI.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 363

The rather, if you could devise it so,
That I might be the organ.

King. It foils right.

You have been talked of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
Wherein, they say, you shine. Your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from him,
As did that one ; and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege.1

Laer. What part is that, my lord ?

King. A very riband in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too ; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
Importing health and graveness.2 — Two months since,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy, —
I have seen myself, and served against the French,
And they can well on horseback : but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't ; he grew unto his seat ;
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured
With the brave beast. So far he topped my thought,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,3
Come short of what he did.

Laer. A Norman was't ?

King. A Norman.

Laer. Upon my life, Lamord.

King. The very same.

Laer. I know him well ; he is the brooch, indeed,
And gem of all the nation.

King. He made confession of you;
And gave you such a masterly report,
For art and exercise in your defence,4
And for your rapier most especial,
That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,

1 " Of the lowest rank ; " siege for seat or place.

2 i. e. implying or denoting gravity and attention to health ; if we
should not rather read wealth for health.

3 " That I, in imagining and describing his feats," &c.

4 i. e. fencing.

•364 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV.

If one could match you. The scrimers l of their nation,
He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eje,
If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,
That he could nothing do, but wish and beg

O ' O

Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you.
Now, out of this,

Laer. What out of this, my lord ?

King. Laertes, was your father dear to you ?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart ?

Laer. AVhy ask you this ?

King. Not that I think you did not love your father;
But that I know love is begun by time ;2
And that I see, in passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still ;
For goodness, growing to a plurisy,3
Dies in his own too-much. That we would do,
We should do when we would ; for this would

changes,

And hath abatements and delays as many,
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents ;
And then this should is like a spendthrift's sigh,4
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer :
Hamlet comes back ; what would you undertake,

1 Scrimers, fencers (from escrimeur, Fr.). This unfavorable description
of French swordsmen is not in the folio.

2 " But that I know love is begun by time," &c. " As love is begun
by time, and has its gradual increase, so time qualifies and abates °it."
Passages of proof are transactions of daily experience.— The next ten
lines are not in the folio.

3 Plurisy is superabundance.

4 The reading of the old copies has been altered in the modern
editions to "a spendthrift sigh." Mr. Blakeway observes, that " Sorrow
for neglected opportunities seems most aptly compared to the sigh of a
spendthrift — good resolutions not carried into effect are deeply injurious
to the moral character. Like sighs, they hurt by easing; they unburden
the mind and satisfy the conscience, without producing any effect UDOII
the conduct." &

SC. VI.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 365

To show yourself in deed jour father's son
More than in words?

Laer. To cut his throat i' the church.

King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize ;
Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
Will you do this, keep close within your chamber ;
Hamlet, returned, shall know you are come home.
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you ; bring you, in fine, together,
And wager o'er your heads. He, being remiss,1
Most generous and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils ; so that, with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated,2 and in a pass of practice,3
Requite him for your father.

Laer. I will do't ;

And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal, that but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death,
That is but scratched withal. I'll touch my point
With this contagion ; that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.4

King. Let's further think of this ;
Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means,
May fit us to our shape. If this should fail,
And that our drift look through our bad performance,
'Twere better not assayed ; therefore this project
Should have a back, or second, that might hold,

1 He being not vigilant ; or incautious.

~ i. e. unblunted ; to bate, or rather to rebate, was to make dull.

:? Pass of practice is an insidious thrust.

4 In the old quarto of 1603, this contrivance originates with the king:—

" When yon are hot in midst of all your play,
Among the foils shall a keen rapier lie,
Steeped in a mixture of deadly poison,
That if it draws but the least dram of blood
In any part of him, he cannot live."

366 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT IV.

If this should blast in proof. — Soft, let me see ; —

We'll make a solemn wager on jour cunnings,1 —

I ha't.

When in jour motion you are hot and dry,

(As make jour bouts more violent to that end,)

And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared2 him

A chalice for the nonce ; whereon but sipping,

If he bj chance escape jour venomed stuck,3

Our purpose maj hold there. But staj, what noise ? 4

Enter Queen.

How now, sweet queen ?

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
So fast thej follow. — Your sister's drowned, Laertes.

Laer. Drowned ! O where ?

Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt5 the brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassj stream ;
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,6
That liberal 7 shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them .
There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ;
When down her weedj trophies, and herself,
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide ;
And, mermaid-like, awhile thej bore her up:
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes ; 8

1 Cunning is skill.

2 The quarto reads prefared ; the folio prepared. The modern editors
read preferred.

3 A stuck is a thrust (stoccata, Ital.).

4 These four words are not in the folio.

5 .Ascamit, thus the quarto ; the folio reads aslant. Jlscaunce is the
same as askew, sideways, overthwart (a travers, Fr.).

6 The ancient botanical name of the long purples was testicidis mon-
onis, or orchis priapisciis. The grosser name to which the queen alludes,
is sufficiently known in many parts of England. It had kindred appel
lations in other languages. In Sussex it is said to be called dead nidi's
hands. Its various names may be seen in Lyte's Herbal, 1578, or in
Cotgrave's Dictionary.

7 i. e. licentious.

8 The quarto reads "snatches of old lauds," i. e. hymns.

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCL U* DENMARK. 367

As one incapable l of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued2
Unto that element ; but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

Laer. Alas, then, she is drowned ?

Queen. Drowned, drowned.

Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid my tears. But yet3
It is our trick ; nature her custom holds,
Let shame say what it will : when these are gone,
The woman will be out. — Adieu, my lord !
I have a speech of fire, that farn would blaze,
But that this folly drowns 4 it. [Exit.

King. Let's follow, Gertrude.

How much I had to do to calm his rage !

O

Now fear I, this will give it start again ;

Therefore, let's follow. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Church-yard.

Enter two Clowns, with spades, &,c.

1 Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial, that
wilfully seeks her own salvation ?

2 Clo. I tell thee she is ; therefore make her grave

1 i. e. unsusceptible of it.

2 Indued was anciently used in the sense of endoived. Shakspeare
may, however, have used it for habited, accustomed.

y Thus the quarto 1603 :—

" Therefore I will not drown thee in my tears,
Revenge it is must yield this heart relief,
For woe begets woe, and grief hangs on grief."
4 The folio reads doubts it.

368 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V.

straight. The crowner hath set on her, and finds it
Christian burial.

1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself
in her own defence ?

2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so.

1 Clo. It must be se ojfendendo ; it cannot be else.
For here lies the point. If I drown myself wittingly,
it argues an act; and an act hath three branches; it
is, to act, to do, and to perform.1 Argal, she drowned
herself wittingly.

2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, good man delver.

1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the water ; good ;
here stands the man; good. If the man go to this
water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he
goes ; mark you that : but if the water come to him,
and drown him, he drowns not himself; argal, he
that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his
own life.

2 Clo. But is this law ?

1 Clo. Ay, marry is't ; crown er's-quest law.

2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't ? If this had
not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried
out of Christian burial.

1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st ; and the more pity ;
that great folks shall have countenance in this world to
drown or hang themselves more than their even-Chris
tian.2 Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentle
men but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they
hold up Adam's profession.

2 Clo. Was he a gentleman?

1 Clo. He wras the first that ever bore arms.

2 Clo. Why, he had none.3

1 Clo. What, art a heathen ? How dost thou un
derstand the Scripture ? The Scripture says, Adam
digged. Could he dig without arms ? I'll put another

1 Warburton says that this is a ridicule on scholastic divisions without
distinction, and of distinctions without difference. Shakspeare certainly
aims at the legal subtilties used upon occasion of inquests.

2 Even- Christian, f or felloiv- Christian, was the old mode of expression ;
even, like, and equal, were synonymous.

3 This speech and the next, as far as arms, is not in the quarto.

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 3(39

question to thee : if thou answerest me not to the

purpose, confess thyself

2 Clo. Go to.

1 Clo. What is he that builds stronger than either
the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter ?

2 Clo. The gallows-maker ; for that frame outlives a
thousand tenants.

1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith ; the gal
lows does well. But how does it well ? It does well
to those that do ill : now thou dost ill to say the gal
lows is built stronger than the church; argal, the
gallows may do well to thee. To't again ; come.

2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a ship
wright, or a carpenter ?

1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.1

2 Clo. Marry, now I can tell.

1 Clo. To't.

2 Clo. Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance.

1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for
your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating;
and, when you are asked this question next, say, a
grave-maker ; the houses that he makes, last till
doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me
a stoup of liquor. [Exit 2 Clown.

i

1 Clown digs, and sings.

In youth, when I did love, did love*

Methought it was very sweet,
To contract, 0, the time, for, ah, my behove,

O, methought there was nothing meet.

1 " Ay, tell me that, and unyoke" This was a common phrase for
giving over or ceasing to do a thing.

^ The original ballad from whence these stanzas are taken, is attrib
uted to lord Vaux, and is printed by Dr. Percy in the first volume of his
Reliques of Antient Poetry. The ohs and the ahs were most probably
meant to express the interruption of the song by the forcible emission of
VOL. vii. 47

370 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V.

Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business ?
he sings at grave-making.

Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of
easiness.

Ham. 'Tis e'en so ; the hand of little employment
hath the daintier sense.

1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps.

Hath clawed me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,
As if I had never been such.

[Throws up a skull.

Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing
once. How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it
were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder ! This
might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now
o'erreaches ; l one that would circumvent God, might
it not ?

Hor. It might, my lord.

Ham. Or of a courtier ; which could say, Good-
.morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord? This
might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it ; might
it not ?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Why, e'en so ; and now my lady Worm's ;
chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a
sexton's spade. Here's fine revolution, an we had
the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the

the grave-digger's breath at each stroke of the mattock. The original
runs thus : —

" I lothe that I did love ;

In youth that I thought swete :
As time requires for my behove,
Methinks they are not mete.

" For age with stealing steps

Hath claude me with his crouch;
And lusty youth away he leaps,
As there had bene none such."

The folio reads ore-offices.

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 371

breeding, but to play at loggats 1 with them ? mine
ache to think on't.

1 Clo. A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, [Sings.

For — and a shrouding sheet,
0, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

[Throws up a skull.

Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the
skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits2 now, his
quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks ? why
does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about
the sconce3 with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him
of his action of battery ? Humph ! This fellow might
be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his
recoveries. Is this the fine of his fines, and the re
covery of his recoveries,4 to have his fine pate full of
fine dirt ? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his
purchases, and double ones too, than the length and
breadth of a pair of indentures ? The very convey
ances of his lands will hardly lie in this box ; and must
the inheritor himself have no more? ha?

HOT. Not a jot more, my lord.

Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins ?

Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calves-skins too.

Plain. They are sheep, and calves, which seek out
assurance5 in that. I will speak to this fellow. —
Whose grave's this, sirrah ?

1 Clo. Mine, sir. —

O, a pit of clay for to be made [Sings.

For such a guest is meet.

1 Loggats, small logs or pieces of wood. Hence loggets was the namo
of an ancient rustic game, in which a stake was fixed in the ground, at
which loggats were thrown.

2 Quiddits are quirks, or subtle questions ; and quillets are nice and
frivolous distinctions. The quarto of 1(50-') has quirks instead of quiddits

3 i. e. head.

* " Is this the fine of his linos, and the recovery of his recoveries,"
omitted in the quarto.
5 Deeds 'of parchment) are called the common assurances of the realm

372 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V

Ham. I think it be thine, indeed, for them liest in't.

I Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
yours ; for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.

Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say it is
thine. 'Tis for the dead, not for the quick ; therefore
tliou liest.

1 Clo. 'Tis a quick lie, sir ; 'twill away again, from
me to you.

Ham. What man dost thou dig it for ?

1 Clo. For no man, sir.

Ham. What woman, then ?

1 Clo. For none neither.

Ham. Who is to be buried in't ?

1 Clo. One that was a woman, sir ; but, rest her
soul, she's dead.

Ham. How absolute the knave is ! we must speak
by the card,1 or equivocation will undo us. By the
Lord, Horatio, these three 2 years I have taken note of
it; the age is grown so picked,3 that the toe of the
peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls
his kibe. — How long hast thou been a grave-maker ?

1 Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that
day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.4

Ham. How long's that since ?

1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that.
It was that very day young Hamlet was born ;5 he that
is mad, and sent into England.

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England ?

1 "To speak by the card," is to speak precisely. It is a metaphor from
the seaman's card or chart.

2 Seven, quarto 1603.

3 Picked is curious, over-nice.

4 "Look you, here's a skull hath been here this dozen year, let me see,
ay, ever since our last king Hamlet slew Fortenbrasse in' combat : young
Hamlet's father, he that's mad." Quarto of 1(503. ft will be seen that
the Poet places this event thirty years ago in the present copy. See the
next note by sir William Blackstone.

5 " By this scene, it appears that Hamlet was then thirty years old, and
knew Yorick well, who had been dead twenty-three years. And yet in
the beginning of the play he is spoken of as a vtnj young man, one that
designed to go back to school, i. e. to the university of Wittenberg
The Poet in the fifth act had forgot what he wrote in the first." — Black-
stone.

SO I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 373

1 Clo. Why, because he was mad. He shall recover
his wits there ; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter
there.

Ham. Why?

1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there ; there the
men are as mad as he.

Ham. How came he mad ?

1 Clo. Very strangely, they say.

Ham. How strangely ?

1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

Ham. Upon what ground ?

1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton
here, man and boy, thirty years.

Ham. How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot ?

1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, (as
we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that scarce
will hold the laying in,) he will last you some eight
year, or nine year ; a tanner will last you nine year.

Ham. Why he more than another?

1 Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade,
that he will keep out water a great while ; and your
water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.
Here's a skull now hath lain you i' the earth three-and-
twenty years.

Ham. WThose was it ?

1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was ; whose do
you think it was ?

Ham. Nay, I know not.

1 Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue, he
poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This
same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.

Ham. This ? [Takes the skull.

1 Clo. E'en that.

Ham. Alas, poor Yorick ! — I knew him, Horatio ; a
fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath
borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it.
Here hung those lips, that I have kissed I know not
how oft. Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ?
your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont

371 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V

to set the table on a roar ? Not one now, to moek
jour own grinning?1 quite chap-fallen ? Now get
you to my lady's chamber,2 and tell her, let her paint
an inch thick, to this favor3 she must come ; make her
laugh at that. — 'Prythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

HOT. What's that, my lord ?

Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this
fashion i' the earth ?

Hor. E'en so.

Ham. And smelt so? pah !

[Throivs down the skull.

Hor. E'en so, my lord.

Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio!
Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of
Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole ?

Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to con
sider so.

Ham. No, 'faith, not a jot ; but to follow him thither
with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it : As
thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander
returneth to dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make
loam : And why of that loam, whereto he was con
verted, might they not stop a beer-barrel ?

Imperious4 Caesar, dead, and turned to clay,

Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe,

Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw ! 5
But soft ! but soft ! aside. — Here comes the king,

Enter Priests, &c. in procession ; the corpse of
OPHELIA, LAERTES, and Mourners following : King.
Queen, their Trains, &c.

The queen, the courtiers ! Who is this they follow,
And with such maimed rites ? This doth betoken,
The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand

i Folio— jeering. 2 Quarto — talk.

3 Favor is countenance, complexion.

4 Imperial is substituted in the folio.

5 AJlaiv is a violent gust of wind.

SC. I.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 375

Foredo 1 its own life. 'Twas of some estate * 2
Couch we awhile, and mark.

[Retiring with HORATIO.

Laer. What ceremony else ?

Ham. That is Laertes,

A very noble youth. Mark.

Laer. What ceremony else ?

I Priest.3 Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful ;
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
Till the last trumpet ; for charitable prayers,
Shards,4 flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her ;
Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants,5
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial.

Laer. Must there no more be done ?

1 Priest. No more be done !

We should profane the service of the dead,
To sing a requiem, and such rest to her
As to peace-parted souls.

Laer. Lay her i' the earth ; —

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh,
May violets spring ! — I tell thee, churlish priest,
A ministering angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howling.

Ham. What, the fair Ophelia!

Queen. Sweets to the sweet. Farewell !

[ Scattering flowers.

I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife ;
I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid,
And not have strewed thy grave.

Laer. O, treble woe

Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,

1 Toforedo is to undo, to destroy.

2 Estate for rank.
•* Quarto — Doctor.

4 Shards does riot, only mean fragments of pots and tiles, but rubbish
of any kind. Our version of the Bible has preserved to us potsherds.

5 i. e. garlands. Still used in most northern languages. Warburton
substituted chants.

376 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V-

Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Deprived thee of! — Hold off the earth a while,
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms.

[Leaps into the grave.

Now pile jour dust upon the quick and dead ;
Till of this flat a mountain you have made
To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
Of blue Olympus.

Ham. [Advancing. ] What is he, whose grief
Bears such an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers ? This is I,
Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into the grave.

Laer. The devil take thy soul !

[Grappling with him.

Ham. Thou pray'st not well.
I pry'thee, take thy fingers from my throat ;
For, though I am not splenetive and rash,
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand.

Xing. Pluck them asunder.

Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet !

All. Gentlemen, —

Hor. Good my lord, be quiet.

[The Attendants part t/iem, and they come
out of the grave.

Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme,
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

Queen. O my son ! what theme ?

Ham. I loved Ophelia; forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. — What wilt thou do for her?

King. O, he is mad, Laertes.

Queen. For love of God, forbear him.

Ham. Zounds, show me what thou'lt do.
Woo't wee)) ? woo't fight ? woo't fast ? woo't tear

thyself ?
Woo't drink up eisel,' eat a crocodile ?

! The quarto of 1003 reads: — "Will drink up vessels ? " and instead
of Os.^a, Oosell. What river, lake, or firth, Shakspeare meant to designate

SC II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 377

I'll do't. — Dost thou come here to whine ?
To outface me with leaping in her grave ?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I.
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us ; till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.

Queen. This is mere madness ;

And thus awhile the fit will work on him ;
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,1
His silence will sit drooping.

Ham. Hear you, sir ;

What is the reason that you use me thus ?
I loved you ever. But it is no matter ;
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, the dog will have his day. [Exit.

King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.—

[Exit HORATIO.
Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech ;

[To LAERTES.

We'll put the matter to the present push. —
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. —
This grave shall have a living monument.
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see ;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Hall in the Castle.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO.

Ham. So much for this, sir ; now shall you see the

other ; —
You do remember all the circumstance ?

is uncertain, perhaps the Issel ; but the firth of lyse is nearest to his scene
of action, and near enough in name. Woo'i or u'oofo, in the northern
counties, is the common contraction ofivouldst thou; and this is the read
ing of the old copies.

1 The golden couplets alludes to the dove only laying two eggs.
VOL. vii. 48

378 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V

Hor. Remember it, my lord !

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
That would not let me sleep ; methought I lay
Worse than the mutiues1 in the bilboes.2 Rashly,
And praised be rashness for it, — Let us know,
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
When our deep plots do pall ; :j and that should teach us,
There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.

Hor. That is most certain.

Ham. Up from my cabin,
My sea-gown 4 scarfed about me, in the dark
Groped I to find out them ; had my desire ;
Fingered their packet ; and, in fine, withdrew
To mine own room again ; making so bold,
My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
Their grand commission ; where I found, Horatio,
A royal knavery ; an exact command, —
Larded with many several sorts of reasons, —
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
With, ho ! such bugs 5 and goblins in my life, —
That, on the supervise.6 no leisure bated,.
No. not to stay the grinding of the axe,
My head should be struck off.

Nor. Is't possible ?

Ham. Here's the commission ; read it at more

leisure.
But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed?

Hor. Ay, 'beseech you.

Ham. Being thus benetted round with vilkmies,

1 i. e. mutineers.

--' The bilboes were bars of iron with fetters annexed to them, by whicu
mutinous or disorderly sailors were anciently linked together. The word
\'.i derived from Bilboa, in Spain, where implements of iron and steel were
fabricated.

3 To pall was to fade or Ml away.

4 " Esclavine (says Cotgrave), a sea-gowne, a coarse, high-collared and
short-sleeved gowne, reaching to the mid-leg, and used mostly by seamen
and sailors/'

5 « With such causes of terror arising from my character and designs."
Bugs were no less terrific than goblins. We now call them bugbears.

6 Tiu,' supervise, is the looking over; no leisure bated means without
any abatement or intermission of time.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 379

Or ! I could make a prologue to my brains,
They had begun the play. — I sat me down ;
Devised a new commission ; wrote it fair :
I once did hold it, as our statists2 do,
A baseness to write fair, and labored much
How to forget that learning ; but, sir, now
It did me yeoman's service.3 Wilt thou know
The effect of what I wrote ?

HOT. Ay, good my lord.

Ham. An earnest conjuration from the king, —
As England was his faithful tributary ;
As love between them like the palm might flourish ;
As peace should still her wheaten garland wear,
And stand a comma 4 'tween their amities ;
And many such like as's of great charge, —
That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
Without debatement further, more, or less,
He should the bearers put to sudden death,
Not shriving time allowed.5

Hor. How was this scaled ?

Ham. Why, even in that was Heaven ordinant ;
I had my father's signet in my purse,
Which was the model of that Danish seal;
Folded the writ up in form of the other ;
Subscribed it; gave't the impression ; placed it safely,
The changeling never known. Now, the next day
Was our sea-fight ; and what to this was sequent
Thou know'st already.

Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.

Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this em
ployment ;

i « Or," for ere, before. See Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2.

~ Statists are statesmen. Blackstone says, that " most of our great
men of Shakspeare's time wrote very bad hands ; their secretaries very
neat ones."

3 Good, substantial service.

4 The comma is the note of connection and continuity of sentences ; the
period is the note of abruption and disjunction. Shakspeare had it per
haps in his mind to write, That unless England complied with the man
date, war should put a period to their amity ; he altered his mode of diction,
and thought that, in an opposite sense, he might put, that peace should
stand a comma between their amities.

5 Without allowing time for the confession of their sins.

380 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V

They are not near my conscience ; their defeat
Coes by their own insinuation grow.
'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
Between the pass and fell incensed points
Of mighty opposites.

Uor. Why, what a king is this?

Ham. Does it not, think thee, stand me now

upon ? ]

He that hath killed my king, and whored my mother ;
Popped in between the election and my hopes ;
Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
And with such cozenage ; is't not perfect conscience,
To quit him with this arm ; and is't not to be damned,
To let this canker of our nature come
In further evil ?

Hor. It must be shortly known to him from -Eng
land,
What is the issue of the business there.

Ham. It will be short : the interim is mine ;
And a man's life no more than to say, one.
But 1 am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself;
For by the image of my cause, I see
The portraiture of his. I'll count2 his favors.
But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.

Hor. Peace ; who comes here ?

Enter Osnic.3

Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Den
mark.

Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. — Dost know this
water-fly ?

1 "Rethink thee, does it not become incumbent upon me to requite him,"
&c. This passage and the throe following speeches are not in the
quartos.

2 " I'll count his favors" Howe changed this to " I'll court his

favor;" which may be right, as Mr. Mason very justly asks, what favors
had Hamlet received from Laertes that he was to make account of?

3 The quarto of 1 G03 — " Enter a braggart Gentleman"

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 331

Hor. No, my good lord.

Ham. Thy state is the more gracious ; for 'tis a vice
to know him. He hath much land and fertile ; let a
beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the
king's mess. 'Tis a chough ; but, as I say, spacious in
the possession of dirt.

Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, 1
should impart a thing to you from his majesty.

Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
spirit. Your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the
head.

Osr. I thank your lordship, 'tis very hot.

Ham. No, believe me, sir, 'tis very cold ; the wind
is northerly.

Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

Ham. But yet, methinks, it is very sultry and hot ;
or my complexion —

Osr. Exceedingly, my lord ; it is very sultry, — as
'twere, — I cannot tell how. — My lord, his majesty bade
me signify to you, that he has laid a great wager on
your head. Sir, this is the matter,

Ham. I beseech you, remember—

[HAMLET moves him to put on his hat.

Osr. Nay, good my lord ; for my ease, in good faith.1
Sir, here is newly come to court, Laertes : believe me,
an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differ
ences,2 of very soft society, and great showing. Indeed,
to speak feelingly of him, he is the card3 or calendar
of gentry, for you shall find in him the continent4 of
what part a gentleman would see.

Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in
you ; — though, I know, to divide him inventorially,

1 The folio omits this and the following fourteen speeches ; and in their
place substitutes, " Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes
is at his weapon."

~ i. e. distinguishing excellencies.

3 " The card or calendar of gentry." The general preceptor of ele
gance ; the card (chart) by which a gentleman is to direct his course ;
the calendar by which he is to order his time.

4 You shall find him containing and comprising every quality which a
gentleman would desire to contemplate for imitation. Perhaps we should
read, " You shall find him the continent."

382 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V

would dizzy the arithmetic of memory ; and yet but
raw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But in the
verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great
article ; and his infusion of such dearth 1 and rareness,
as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his
mirror ; and, who else would trace him, his umbrage,
nothing more.2

O

Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.

Ham. The concernancy, sir ? why do we wrap the
gentleman in our more rawer breath ?

Osr. Sir?

Hor. Is't not possible to understand in another
tongue ? You will do't, sir, really.3

Ham. What imports the nomination of this gen
tleman ?

Osr. Of Laertes ?

Hor. His purse is empty already ; all his golden
words are spent.

Ham. Of him, sir.

Osr. I know you are not ignorant

Ham. I would you did, sir ; yet, in faith, if you did,
it would not much approve me.4 — Well, sir.

Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence
Laertes is —

Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare
with him in excellence ; but, to know a man well, were
to know himself.5

Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon ; but in the impu-

1 Dearth, according to Tooke, is " the third person singular of the verb
to dere ; it means some cause which dereth, i. e. maketh dear ; or hurteth,
or doth mischief." Dearth was used for scarcity, as well as dearness.

3 This speech is a ridicule of the euphuism, or court-jargon of that
time.

:] This interrogatory remark is very obscure. The sense may be, "Is
it not possible for this fantastic fellow to understand in plainer language ?
You will, however, imitate his jargon admirably, really, sir." It seems
very probable that " another tongue," is an error of the press for "mother
tongue."

4 What Hamlet would have added we know not; but surely Shak-
speare's use of the word approve, upon all occasions, is against Johnson's
explanation of it — " to recommend to approbation."

5 I dare not pretend to know him, lest I should pretend to an equality
no man can completely know another, but by knowing himself.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.

tation laid on him by them, in his meed l he's
unfellowed.

Ham. What's his weapon ?

Osr. Rapier and dagger.

Ham. That's two of his weapons; but, well.

O.sr. The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Bar-
bar j horses; against the which he has impawned,2 as
I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their
assigns, as girdle, hangers,3 and so. Three of the car
riages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive
to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal
conceit.

Ham. What call you the carriages ?

Hor. I knew you must be edified by the margent4
ere you had done.

Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers.

Ham. The phrase would be more german 5 to the
matter, if we could carry a cannon by our sides ; I
would it might be hangers till then. But, on. Six
Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns,
and three liberal conceited carriages ; that's the French
bet against, the Danish. Why is this impawned, as
you call it ?

Osr. The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes
between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you
three hits : 6 he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it
would come to immediate trial, if your lordship would
vouchsafe the answer.

Ham. How, if I answer no ?

Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person
in trial.

1 Meed is merit.

a "Impawn-ed" The folio reads imported. Pignare, in Italian, signifies
both to impawn and to lay a wager. The stakes are, indeed, a gage or

angers, that part of the belt by which the sword was suspended.

4 " The margent" The gloss or commentary, in old books, was usually
on the margin of the leaf.

5 i. e. more akin.

6 The conditions of the wager are thus given in the quarto of 1003: —

" Marry, sir, that young Laertes in twelve venies
At rapier and dagger, do not get three odds of you."

384 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V.

Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall ; if it please
his majesty, it is the breathing time of day with me.
Let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the
king hold his purpose, I will win for him, if I can ; if
not, I will gain nothing but my shame, and the odd
hits.

Osr. Shall I deliver you so ?

Ham. To this effect, sir ; after what flourish your
nature will.

Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. [Exit.

Ham. Yours, yours. — He does well to commend it
himself; there are no tongues else for's turn.

Hor. This lapwing ] runs away with the shell on his
head.

Ham. He did comply2 with his dug, before he
sucked it. Thus has he (and many more of the same
bevy,3 that, I know, the drossy age dotes on) only got
the tune of the time, and outward habit of encounter ; 4
a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through
and through the most fanned and winnowed opinions; 5
and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are
out.

Enter a Lord.c

Lord. My lord, his majesty commended him to you
by young Osric, who brings back to him, that you
attend him in the hall. He sends to know if your

1 Horatio means to call Osric a raw, unfledged, foolish fellow. It was
a common comparison for a forward fool. Thus in Meres's Wits Treas
ury, 1598 : — " As the lapwing runneth away with the shell on her head,
as soon as she is hatched," &c.

2 " He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it." See Act ii. Sc. 2.

3 The folio reads, " mine more of the same hevy." — Mine is evidently
a misprint, and more likely for manie (i. e. many) than mine. The quarto
of 1604 reads, " many more of the same breed"

4 "Outward habit of encounter" is exterior politeness of address.

5 The folio reads fond and winnowed. Fanned and winnowed are
almost always coupled by old writers. The meaning is, " These men
have got the cant of the day ; a kind of frothy collection of fashionable
prattle, which yet carries them through with the most light and inconse
quential judgments ; but if brought to the trial by the slightest breath of
rational conversation, the bubbles burst.

6 All that passes between Hamlet and this lord is omitted in the folio.

SC. 11.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 385

pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will
take longer time.

Ham. I am constant to my purposes ; they follow
the king's pleasure. If his fitness speaks, mine is
ready ; now, or whensoever, provided I be so able
as now.

Lord. The king, and queen, and all are coming
down.

Ham. In happy time.

Lord. The queen desires you to use some gentle
entertainment to Laertes, before you fall to play.

Ham. She well instructs me. [Exit Lord.

Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord.

Ham. I do not think so ; since he went into France,
I have been in continual practice ; I shall win at the
odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here
about my heart ; but it is no matter.

Hor. Nay, good my lord,

Ham. It is but foolery ; but it is such a kind of
gain-giving,1 as would, perhaps, trouble a woman.

Hor. If your mind dislike any thing, obey it. I will
forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit.

Ham. Not a whit ; we defy augury. There is a
special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be
now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will be
now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readi
ness is all. Since no man, of aught he leaves, —
knows ; — what is't to leave betimes ?2 Let be.

1 i. e. misgiving ; a giving against, or an internal feeling and prognostic
of evil.

2 This is the reading of the folio ; the quarto reads, " Since no man has
aught of what he leaves. What is't to leave betimes." Has is evidently
here a blunder for knoivs. Johnson thus interprets the passage : — " Since
no man knows aught of the state which he leaves, since he cannot judge
what other years may produce, why should we be afraid of leaving life be
times ? " Warburton's explanation is very ingenious, but perhaps strains
the Poet's meaning farther than he intended. " It is true, that by death
we lose all the goods of life ; yet, seeing this loss is no otherwise an evil
than as we are sensible of it, and since death removes all sense of it,
what matters it how soon we lose them ? "

VOL. vii. 49

386 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V.

Enter King, Queen, LAERTES, Lords, OSRIC, and
Attendants, with foils, &c.

King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand

from me.

[The King puts the hand of LAERTES into that
of HAMLET.

Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you

wrong ;

But pardon it, as you are a gentleman.
This presence l knows, and you must needs have heard,
How I am punished with a sore distraction.
What I have done,

That might your nature, honor, and exception,
Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
Was't Hamlet wronged Laertes ? Never, Hamlet.
If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
And, when he's not himself, does wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
Who does it then ? His madness. — If 't be so,
Hamlet is of the faction that is wronged;
His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
Sir, in this audience,2
Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
That I have shot my arrow o'er the house,
And hurt my brother.

Laer. I am satisfied in nature,

Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most
To my revenge ; but in my terms of honor,
I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,
Till by some elder masters, of known honor,
I have a voice and precedent of peace,
To keep my name ungorged.3 But till that time,
I do receive your offered love like love,
And will not wrong it.

Ham. I embrace it freely,

i. e. tne king and queen. 2 This line is not in the quarto
3 i. e. un wounded.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 387

And will this brother's wager frankly play. —
Give us the foils ; come on.

Laer. Come, one for me.

Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes ; in mine ignorance
Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,
Stick fiery off indeed.

Laer. You mock me, sir.

Ham. No, by this hand.

King. Give them the foils, young Osric. — Cousin

Hamlet,
You know the wager ?

Q

Ham. Very well, my lord ;

Your grace hath laid the odds l o' the weaker side.

King. I do not fear it. I have seen you both. —
But since he's bettered, we have therefore odds.

Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another.

Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a
length ? [They prepare to play.

Osr. Ay, my good lord.

King. Set me the stoups 9 of wine upon that table. —
If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
Let all the battlements their ordnance fire.
The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath ;
And in the cup an union 3 shall he throw,
Richer than that which four successive kings
In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups ;
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
Now the king drinks to Hamlet. — Come, begin ; —
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.

1 The king had wagered 511: Barbary horses to a few rapiers, poniards,
&c. ; that is, about twenty to one. — These are the odds here meant The
odds the king means in the next speech were twelve to nine in favor of
Hamlet, by Laertes giving him three.

2 Stoup is a common word in Scotland at this day, and denotes a pewter
vessel resembling our wine measures; but of no determinate quantity.

1 An union is a precious pearl, remarkable for its size. Under pretence
of throwing a pearl into the cup, the king may be supposed to drop some
poisonous drug into the wine. Hamlet subsequently asks him tauntingly,
" Is the union here ? "

388 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V.

Ham. Come on, sir.

Laer. Come, my lord. [They play

Ham. One.

Laer. No.

Ham. Judgment.

Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.

Laer. Well, — again.

Xing. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is

thine ;
Here's to thy health. — Give him the cup.

[Trumpets sound ; and cannon shot off within.

Ham. I'd play this bout first; set it by awhile.
Come. — Another hit; what say you ? [They play.

Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess.

King. Our son shall win.

Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath.—

Here, Hamlet, take my napkin ; rub thy brows.
The queen carouses ! to thy fortune, Hamlet.

Ham. Good madam, —

King. Gertrude, do not drink.

Queen. I will, my lord ; — I pray you, pardon me.

King. It is the poisoned cup ; it is too late. [Aside.

Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam ; by and by.

Queen. Come, Jet me wipe thy face.

Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now.

King. I do not think it.

Laer. And yet it is almost against my conscience.

[Aside.

Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes. You do but

dally ;

I pray you, pass with your best violence ;
I am afeard you make a wanton 2 of me.

Laer. Say you so ? come on. [They play.

Osr. Nothing neither way.

Laer. Have at you now.

[LAERTES wounds HAMLET ; then, in scuffling,
they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds
LAERTES.

1 i. e. the queen drinks to thy good success.

n i <?. you trifle or play with me as if I were a child.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 389

King. Part them ; they are incensed.

Ham. Nay, come again. [The Queen falls.

Osr. Look to the queen there, ho !

Hor. They bleed on both sides ; — how is it, my lord ?

Osr. How is't, Laertes ?

Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe,

Osric ;
I am justly killed with mine own treachery.

Ham. How does the queen ?

King. She swoons to see them bleed.

Queen. No, no, the drink, the drink, — O my dear

Hamlet !
The drink, the drink ; — I am poisoned ! [Dies.

Ham. O villany ! — Ho ! let the door be locked.
Treachery! seek it out. [LAERTES falls.

Laer. It is here, Hamlet ; Hamlet, thou art slain ;
No medicine in the world can do thee good ;
In thee there is not half an hour's life.
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
Un bated,1 and envenomed. The foul practice
Hath turned itself on me ; lo, here I lie,
Never to rise again. Thy mother's poisoned;
I can no more ; the king, the king's to blame.

Ham. The point

Envenomed too ! — Then, venom, to thy work.2

[Stabs the King.

Osr. and Lords. Treason ! treason !

King. O, yet defend me, friends, I am but hurt.

Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned

Dane,

Drink off this potion. — Is the union here ?
Follow my mother. [King dies.

Laer. He is justly served ;

It is a poison tempered by himself.
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.

1 See note 2, p. 365.

2 In the quarto of 1603 :—

" The poisoned instrument within my hand ?
Then venom to thy venom ; die, damned villain :
Come, drink, here lies thy union here. [King1 dies"

390 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V

Mine and my father's death come not upon thee ;
Nor thine on me ! [Dies.

Ham. Heaven make thee free of it ! I follow thee.
I am dead, Horatio. — Wretched queen, adieu ! —
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
Had I but time, (as this fell sergeant,1 death,
Is strict in his arrest.) O, I could tell you, —
But let it be. — Horatio, I am dead ;
Thou liv'st ; report me and my cause aright
To the unsatisfied.

Hor. Never believe it ;

I am more an antique Roman than a Dane,
Here's yet some liquor left.

Ham. As thou'rt a man, —

Give me the cup ; let go ; by Heaven, I'll have it.—

0 God ! — Horatio, what a wounded name,

Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me !
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story. — [March afar off] and shot within.
What warlike noise is this ?

Osr Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from

Poland,

To the ambassadors of England gives
This warlike volley.

Ham. O, I die, Horatio ;

The potent poison quite o'ercrows2 my spirit.

1 cannot live to hear the news from England;
But I do prophesy the election lights

On Fortinbras : he has my dying voice ;
So tell him, with the occurrents, more or less,
Which have solicited,3 — The rest is silence. [Dies.
Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. — Good night, sweet
prince ;

1 A sergeant was a bailiff or sheriff's officer.

2 To overcrow is to overcome, to subdue.

3 "The occurrents which have solicited" — the occurrences or incidents
which have incited. The sentence is left unfinished.

SC. II.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 391

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest !

Why does the drum come hither ? [March within.

Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors, and

others.

Fort. Where is this sight ?

Hor. What is it you would see ?

If aught of woe, or wonder, cease your search.

Fort. This quarry cries on havoc ! 1 — O proud death !
What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
That thou so many princes, at a shot,
So bloodily hast struck ?

1 Amb. The sight is dismal ;

And our affairs from England come too late.
The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,
To tell him, his commandment is fulfilled,
That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead :
Where should we have our thanks ?

Hor. Not from his mouth,

Had it the ability of life to thank you ;
He never gave commandment for their death.
But since, so jump2 upon this bloody question,
You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
Are here arrived ; give order that these bodies
High on a stage be placed to the view ;
And let me speak, to the yet unknowing world,
How these things came about. So shall you hear
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts ; 3
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters;
Of deaths put on 4 by cunning, and forced cause ;
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook

1 " This quarry cries on havoc ! " To cry on was to exclaim against.
Quarry was the term used for a heap of slaughtered game. See Macbeth,
Act iv. Sc. 3.

2 It has been already observed that jump and just, or exactly, are
synonymous. Vide note on Act i. Sc. 1.

3 Of sanguinai'y and unnatural acts, to which the perpetrator was in
stigated by concupiscence or " carnal stings." The allusion is to the mur
der of old Hamlet by his brother.

4 i. e. instigated, produced. Instead of "forced cause," the quartos
read, "/or no cause."

392 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. [ACT V

Fallen on the inventors' heads. All this can I
Truly deliver.

Fort. Let us haste to hear it,

And call the noblest to the audience.
For me, with sorrow, I embrace my fortune ;
I have some rights of memory l in this kingdom,
Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.

Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more ;
But let this same be presently performed,
Even while men's minds are wild ; lest more mischance
On plots and errors happen.

fort. Let four captains

Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage ;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have proved most royally ; and, for his passage,
The soldier's music, and the rites of war,
Speak loudly for him. —
Take up the bodies. — Such a sight as this
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot. [ A dead march.

[Exeunt, bearing off the dead bodies; after
which a peal of ordnance is shot off.

1 i. e. some rights ivkich are remembered in this kingdom.

THE following scene in the first quarto, 1603, differs so materially from
the revised play, that it has been thought it would not be unacceptable
to the reader : —

Enter HORATIO and the Queen.

Hor. Madam, your son is safe arrived in Denmarke ;
This letter I even now received of him,
Whereas he writes how he escaped the danger,
And subtle treason that the king had plotted,
Being crossed by the contention of the winds,
He found the packet sent to the king of England,
Wherein he saw himself betrayed to death,
As at his next conversion with your grace
He will relate the circumstance at full.

Queen. Then I perceive there's treason in his looks,
That semed to sugar o'er his villanies ;
But I will sooth and please him for a time,
For murderous minds are always jealous :
But know not you, Horatio, where he is ?

Hor. Yes, madam, and he hath appointed me
To meet him on the east side of the city
To-morrow morning.

Queen. O fail not, good Horatio, and withal commend me
A mother's care to him; bid him a while
Be wary of his presence, lest that he
Fail in that he goes about B

Hor. Madam, never make doubt of that :
I tliink by this the news be come to court
He is arrived :

Observe the king, and you shall quickly find,
Hamlet being here, things fell not to his mind.

Queen. But what became of Gilderstone and Rossencraft ?

Hor. He being set ashore, they went for England,
And in the packet there writ down that doom
To be performed on them 'pointed for him :
And by great chance he had his father's seal,
So all was done without discovery.

Queen. Thanks be to Heaven for blessing of the prince.
Horatio, once again I take my leave,
With thousand mother's blessings to my son.

Hor. Madam, adieu !

VOL. VII. 50

394

IF the dramas of Shakspeare were to be characterized, each by the
particular excellence which distinguishes it from the rest, we must allow
to the tragedy of Hamlet the praise of variety. The incidents arc so
numerous, that the argument of the play would make a long tale. The
scenes are interchangeably diversified with merriment and solemnity —
with merriment that includes judicious and instructive observations, and
solemnity not strained by poetical violence above the natural sentiments
of man. New characters appear from time to time in continual succes
sion, exhibiting various forms of life and particular modes of conversa
tion. The pretended madness of Hamlet causes much mirth, the mourn
ful distraction of Ophelia fills the heart with tenderness ; and every
personage produces the effect intended, from the apparition that, in the
first act, chills the blood with horror, to the fop, in the last, that exposes
affectation to just contempt.

The conduct is, perhaps, not wholly secure against objections. The
action is indeed for the most part in continual progression ; but there are
some scenes which neither forward nor retard it. Of the feigned madness
of Hamlet there appears no adequate cause ; for he does nothing which
he might not have done with the reputation of sanity. He plays the
madman most when he treats Ophelia with so much rudeness, which
seems to be useless and wanton cruelty.

Hamlet is, through the whole piece, rather an instrument than an
agent. After he has, by the stratagem of the play, convicted the king-,
he makes no attempt to punish him ; and his death is at last effected by
an incident which Hamlet had no part in producing.

The catastrophe is not very happily produced; the exchange of Aveap-
ons is rather an expedient of necessity, than a stroke of art. A scheme
might easily be formed to kill Hamlet with the dagger, and Laertes with
the bowl.

The Poet is accused of having shown little regard to poetical justice,
and may be charged with equal neglect of poetical probability. The
apparition left the regions of the dead to little purpose ; the revenge
which he demands is not obtained but by the death of him that was
required to take it ; and the gratification which would arise from the
destruction of a usurper and a murderer, is abated by the untimely
death of Ophelia, the young, the beautiful, the harmless, and the pious,

JOHNSON

395

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

THE story is taken from the collection of Novels, by Gio Giraldi
Cinthio, entitled Hecatommithi, being the seventh novel of the third
decad. No English translation of so early a date as the age of Shak-
speare has hitherto been discovered; but the work was translated into
French, by Gabriel Chappuys, Paris, 1584. The version is not a faithful
one ; and Dr. Farmer suspects that through this medium the novel came
into English.

The name of Othello may have been suggested by some tale which
has escaped our researches, as it occurs in Reynolds's God's Revenge
against Adultery, standing in one of his arguments as follows: — "She
marries Othello, an old German soldier." This history (the eighth) is
professed to be an Italian one ; and here, also, the name of lago occurs. It
is likewise found in The History of the famous Euordanus, Prince of
Denmark ; with the strange Adventures of lago, Prince of Saxonie, 4to.
1G05. It may, indeed, be urged, that these names were adopted from the
tragedy before us ; but every reader who is conversant with the peculiar
style and method in which the work of honest John Reynolds is com
posed, will acquit him of the slightest familiarity with the scenes of
Shakspeare. — Steevens.

The time of this play may be ascertained from the following circum
stances : — Selymus the Second formed his design against Cyprus in 1569,
and took it in 1571. This was tho only attempt the Turks ever made
upon that island after it came into the hands of the Venetians (which
was in 1473) ; wherefore the time must fall in with some part of that
interval. We learn from the play, that there Avas a junction of the Turk
ish fleet at Rhodes, in order for the invasion of Cyprus ; that it first came
sailing towards Cyprus ; then went to Rhodes, there met another squad
ron, and then resumed its way to Cyprus. These are real historical
facts, which happened when Mustapha, Selymus's general, attacked
Cyprus, in May, 1570; which is, therefore, the true period of this per
formance.— See Knolles's History of the Turks, p. 838, 84G, 867.— Reed,

The first edition of this play, of which we have any certain knowledge,

396 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.

was printed by N. O., for Thomas Walkly, to whom it was entered on the
Stationers' books, October 6, 1621. The most material variations of this
copy from the first folio are pointed out in the notes. The minute differ
ences are so numerous, that to have specified them would only have
fatigued the reader. Walkly's Preface will follow these Preliminary
Remarks.

Malone first placed the date of the composition of this play in 1611,
upon the ground of the allusion, supposed by Warburton, to the creation
of the new order of baronets, by King James I. in that year. On the same
ground, Mr. Chalmers attributed it to 1614 ; and Dr. Drake assigned the
middle period of 1612. But, this allusion being controverted, Malone
subsequently affixed to it the date of 1604, because, as he asserts, " we
know it was acted in that year." He has not stated the evidence for this
decisive fact; and Mr. Boswell was unable to discover it among his
papers, but gives full credit to it, on the ground that " Mr. Malone never
expressed himself at random." The allusion to Pliny, translated by
Philemon Holland, in 1601, in the simile of the Pontic sea ; and the sup
posed imitation of a passage in Cornwallis's Essays, of the same date,
seem to have influenced Mr. Malone in settling the date of this play.
What is more certain, is, that it was played before king James at
court, in 1613; which circumstance is gathered from the MSS. of
Vertue, the engraver.

"If (says Schlegel) Romeo and Juliet shines with the colors of the
dawn of morning, but a dawn whose purple clouds already announce the
thunder of a sultry day, Othello is, on the other hand, a strongly-shaded
picture ; we might call it a tragical Rembrandt."

Should these parallels between pictorial representation and dramatic
poetry be admitted, — for I have my doubts of their propriety, — this is a
far more judicious ascription than that of Steevens, who, in a concluding
note to this play, would compare it to a picture from the school of
Raphael. Poetry is certainly the pabulum of art ; and this drama, as
every other of our immortal Bard, offers a series of pictures to the imagina
tion, of such varied hues, that artists of every school might from hence
be furnished with subjects. What Schlegel means to say, appears to be,
that it abounds in strongly-contrasted scenes, but that gloom predominates.

In strong contrast of character, in delineation of the workings of pas
sion in the human breast, in manifestations of profound knowledge of the
inmost recesses of the heart, this drama exceeds all that has ever issued
from mortal pen. It is indeed true, that "no eloquence is capable of
painting the overwhelming catastrophe in Othello, — the pressure of feel
ings which measure out in a moment the abysses of eternity."

397

WALKLY'S PREFACE TO OTHELLO,
ED. 1622, 4xo.

THE STATIONER TO THE READER.

To set forth a booke without an Epistle, were like to the
old English proverbe, " A blew coat without a badge ; " and
the author being dead, I thought good to take that piece of
worke upon me : To commend it, I will not ; for that which
is good, I hope every man will commend without intreaty :
and I am the bolder, because the Author's name is sufficient
to vent his worke. Thus leaving every one to the liberty of
judgment, I have ventured to print this play, and leave it the

generall censure. Yours,

THOMAS WALKLY.

398

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Duke of Venice.

BRABANTIO, a Senator.

Two other Senators.

GRATIANO, Brother to Brabantio.

LODOVICO, Kinsman to Brabantio.

OTHELLO, the Moor :

CASSIO, his Lieutenant ;

IAGO, his Ancient.

RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman.

MONTANO, Othello's Predecessor in the Government of Cyprus.

Clown, Servant to Othello.

Herald.

DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to Othello.

EMILIA, Wife to lago.

BIANCA, a Courtesan, Mistress to Cassio.

Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, Sailors,
Attendants, fyc.

SCENE, for the first Act, in Venice ; during the rest of tin
Play, at a Seaport in Cyprus.

399

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Venice. A Street.

Enter RODERIGO and IAGO.

Roderigo. TUSH, never tell me; I take it much un
kindly,

That thou, lago, — who hast had my purse,
As if the strings were thine, — shouldst know of this.

lago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me. —
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.

Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy
hate.

lago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones

of the city,

In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Oft capped l to him ; — and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place :
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance,2
Horribly stuffed with epithets of war ;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits
My mediators ; for, certes, says he,

1 To cap is to salute by taking off the cap ; it is still an academic
phrase. The folio reads, « Off-capped."

2 Circumstance signifies circumlocution.

400 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT 1

/ have already chose my officer.
And what was he ?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician.1
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damned in a fair wife ;a
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster ; unless the bookish theoric,3
Wherein the toged consuls 4 can propose
As masterly as he. Mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election.
And I — of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds,
Christian and heathen — must be be-lee'd and calmed
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster ; 5
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I (God bless the mark !) his Moorship's ancient.
Rod. By Heaven, I rather would have been his

hangman.
lago. But there's no remedy ; 'tis the curse of

service ;

Preferment goes by letter,6 and affection,
Not by the old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,

1 lago probably means to represent Cassio as a man Avho knew no
more of a squadron than the number of men it contained. He afterwards
calls him " this counter-caster"

2 The folio roads, dambd. This passage has given rise to much dis
cussion. Mr. Tyrwhitt thought that we should read, " almost damned in
a fair life ; " alluding to the judgment denounced in the Gospel against
those "of whom all men speak well." Mr. Singer Avould be contented to
adopt his emendation, but with a different interpretation : — " A fellow almost
damned (i. e. lost from luxurious habits) in the serene or equable tenor of
his life." The passage, as it stands at present, has been said by Steevcns
to mean, according to lago's licentious manner of expressing himself, no
more than a man " very near being married." This seems to have been
the case in respect to Cassio. Mr. Boswell suspects that there may be
some corruption in the text.

3 i. e. theory. See All's Well that Ends Well, Act iv. Sc. 3.

4 The rulers of the state, or civil governors. By toged is meant peace
able, in opposition to warlike qualifications. The folio reads " tongued
consuls."

5 It was anciently the practice to reckon up sums with counters.

6 i. e by recommendation.

SC. 1. 1 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 401

Whether I in any just term am affined 1
To love the Moor.

Rod. I would not follow him, then.

lago. O sir, content you ;
I follow him to serve my turn upon him.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly followed.. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender ; and, when he's old,

cashiered ;

Whip me such honest knaves.2 Others there are,
Who, trimmed in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do wrell thrive by them, and, when they have lined

their coats,

Do themselves homage : these fellows have some soul ;
And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,

It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be lago.
In following him, I follow but myself:
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end :
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern,3 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws 4 to peck at. I am not what I am.

Rod. What a full fortune 5 does the thick-lips owe,
If he can carry 't thus !

lago. Call up her father,

Rouse him; make after him, poison his delight,

1 " Do I stand within any such terms of propinquity to the Moor, aa
that I am bound to love him ? " The first quarto has assigned.

2 Knave is here used for servant, but with a mixture of contempt.

3 Outward show of civility.

4 This is the reading of the folio. The first quarto reads " doves"

5 Full fortune is complete good fortune : to owe is to possess.

VOL. VII. 51

402 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT L

Proclaim him in the streets ; incense her kinsmen,
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies : though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
As it may lose some color.

Rod. Here is her father's house ; I'll call aloud.

lago. Do ; with like timorous accent, and dire yell,
As when, by l night and negligence, the fire
Is spied in populous cities.

Rod. What, ho ! Brabantio ! seignior Brabantio ! ho !

lago. Awake ! what, ho ! Brabantio ! thieves !

thieves ! thieves !

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags !
Thieves ! thieves !

BRABANTIO, above, at a window.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons ?
What is the matter there ?

Rod. Seignior, is all your family within ?

lago. Are your doors locked ?

Bra. Why ? wherefore ask you this t

lago. 'Zounds, sir, you are robbed ; for shame, put

on your gown ;

Your heart is burst,2 you have lost half your soul ;
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise ;
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you.
Arise, I say.

Bra. What, have you lost your wits ?

Rod. Most reverend seignior, do you know my
voice ?

Bra. Not I ; what are you ?

Rod. My name is — Roderigo.

Bra. The worse welcome ;

I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors.

1 " By night and negligence " means " in the time, of night and neg
ligence."

2 i. e. is broken.

SO. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 403

In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,

Mv daughter is not for thee ; and now, in madness,

Being full of supper, and distempering draughts,

Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come

To start my quiet.

Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir,

Bra. But thou must needs be sure,

My spirit, and my place, have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.

Rod. Patience, good sir.

Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing ? This is

Venice ;
My house is not a grange.1

Rod. Most grave Brabantio,

In simple and pure soul I come to you.

logo. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will
not serve God if the devil bid you. Because we come
to do you service, you think we are ruffians. You'll
have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse ;
you'll have your nephews 9 neigh to you ; you'll have
coursers for cousins, and genets for germans.3

Bra. What profane wretch art thou ?

lago. I arn one, sir, that comes to tell you your
daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with
two backs.

Bra. Thou art a villain.

lago. You are — a senator.

Bra. This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Ro-
derigo.

Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech

you,

[IPt be your pleasure, and most wise consent,
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter
At this odd-even4 and dull watch o' the night,
Transported — with no worse nor better guard,

1 Grange, is, strictly, the farm of a monastery ; but, provincially, any
lone house or solitary farm is called a grange.

2 Nephews here mean grandchildren.

3 i. e. horses for relations. A genet is a Spanish or Barbary horse.

4 This odd-even appears to mean the interval between twelve at night
and one in the morning.

404 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT 1

But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier —

7 O

To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor, —

If this bo known to yon, and jour allowance,1

We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs ;

But if you know not this, my manners tell me,

We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,

That, from 2 the sense of all civility,

I thus would play and trifle with your reverence.

Your daughter, — if you have not given her leave, —

I say again, hath made a gross revolt ;

Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,

In an extravagant3 and wheeling stranger,

Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself;]

If she be in her chamber, or your house,

Let loose on me the justice of the state

For thus deluding you.

Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho !

Give me a taper ; — call up all my people.—
This accident is not unlike my dream ;
Belief of it oppresses me already. —
Light, I say ! light ! [Exit, from above.

logo. Farewell ; for I must leave you.

It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produced (as, if I stay, I shall)
Against the Moor. For, I do know, the state —
However this may gall him with some check4 —
Cannot with safety cast5 him ! for he's embarked
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
(Which even now stand in act,) that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have not,
To lead their business ; in which regard,
Though 1 do hate him as I do hell-pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sig;n of love,

1 i. e. done with your approbation.

2 That is, in opposition to or departing from the sense of all civility.

3 Extravagant is here a^;iin used in its Latin sense, for wandering. In
is here used for on ; a common substitution in ancient phraseology.

4 i. e. some rcbuk?.

5 That is, dismiss him.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 405

Which is, indeed, but sign. That you shall surely find

him,

Lead to the Sagittary the raised search ;
And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [Exit.

Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches.

Bra. It is too true an evil ; gone she is ;
And what's to come of my despised time,1
Is nought but bitterness. — Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her ? — O, unhappy girl ! —
With the Moor, say'st thou ? — Who would be a

father ? —

How didst thou know 'twas she ? O, thou deceiv'st me
Past thought ! — What said she to you ? — Get more

tapers ;
Raise all my kindred. — Are they married, think you ?

Rod. Truly, I think they are.

Bra. O Heaven ! — How got she out ! — O treason

of the blood ! —

Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
By what you see them act. — Is there not charms,2
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abused ?3 Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing ?

Rod. Yes, sir ; I have, indeed.

Bra. Call up my brother. — O that you had had her! —
Some one way, some another. — Do you know
Where we may apprehend her and the Moor ?

Rod. I think I can discover him ; if you please
To get good guard, and go along with me.

Bra. 'Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call ;
I may command at most. — Get weapons, ho !
And raise some special officers of night. —
On, good Roderigo ; — I'll deserve your pains. [Exeunt,

1 Despised time is time of no value. So in Romeo and Juliet : —

" — - — expire the term
Of a despised life closed in my breast."

2 The second folio reads, " Are there not," &c.

3 i. e. may be illuded or deceived

406 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT I,

SCENE II. The same. Another Street.

Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants.

lago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men.
Yet do I hold it very stuff1 o'the conscience,
To do no contrived murder ; I lack iniquity
Sometimes, to do me service. Nine or ten times
I had thought to have yerked him here under the ribs.

Oth. 'Tis better as it is.

lago. Nay, but he prated,2

And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honor,
That, with the little godliness I have,
I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married ? for, be sure of this. —
That the magnifico 3 is much beloved ;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential4
As double as the duke's. He will divorce you :
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on)
Will give him cable.

Oth. Let him do his spite ;

My services, which I have done the seigniory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,
(Which, when I know that boasting is an honor,
1 shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege ; 5 and my demerits c

1 Stuff of the conscience is substance or essence of the conscience.
Shakspeare uses the word in the same sense, and in a manner yet more
harsh, in Macbeth : —

" Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff"

~ "Of whom is this said ? — Of Roderigo, or Brabantio ?"
^ The chief men of Venice are, by a peculiar n;uae, called magnified
i. e. magnificoes.

4 i. e. as powerful: as double means a? x'roiitr. as forcible, as double in
effect, as that of the doge.

5 "Men who have sat upon roynl thrones."

G Demerits has the same meaning1 in Shakspeare as merits.

SC II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 407

May speak, unbonneted,1 to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reached. For know, lago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused,2 free condition
Put into circumscription and confine
For the sea's worth.3 But, look ! what lights come
yonder ?

Enter CASSIO, at a distance, and certain Officers with

torches.

lago. These are the raised father, and his friends.
You were best go in.

Oth. Not I ; I must be found ;

My parts, my title, and my perfect soul,
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they ?

lago. By Janus, I think no.

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.
The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
What is the news ?

Cas. The duke does greet you, general ;

And he requires your haste, post-haste4 appearance,
Even on the instant.

Oth. What is the matter, think you ?

Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine ;
It is a business of some heat. The galleys
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
This very night at one another's heels ;
And many of the consuls,5 raised, and met,
Are at the duke's already. You have been hotly called

for ;
When, being not at. your lodging to be found,

1 " I am his equal or superior in rank ; and were it not so, such are my
merits, that, unbonneted, without the addition of patrician or senatorial
dignity, they may speak to as proud a fortune," &c.

2 i. e. unsettled, free from domestic cares.

3 Pliny, the naturalist, has a chapter on the riches of the sea. The ex
pression seems to have been proverbial.

4 These words were ordinarily written on the covers of letters or
packets requiring the most prompt and speedy conveyance ; often re
duplicated thus: — " Haste, haste, haste, post-haste !"

5 See note 4, p. 400.

408 OTHELLO, THE MOOil OF VENICE. [ACT i

The senate hath sent about three several quests, ]
To search you out.

Oik. 'Tis well I a in found by you.

f will but spend a word here in the house,
And go with you. [Exit

Cas. Ancient, what makes he here ?

lago. 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land

car rack ; 2
If it prove lawful prize, he's made forever.

Cas. I do not understand.

lago. He's married.

Cas. To who?

Re-enter OTHELLO.

lago. Marry, to — come, captain, will you go ?
Oth. Have with you.

Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you.

Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers of night,
with torches and weapons.

lago. It is Brabantio. — General, be advised ; 3
He comes to bad intent.

Oth. Hola ! stand there !

Rod. Seignior, it is the Moor.

Bra. Down with him, thief!

[They dra.i: on uoih sides.

lago. You, Roderigo ! come, hir, I am for you.
Oik. Keep up )um bright .s \\onL, \\A the- dew \vlll

rust them. —

Good seignior, you shall more command with ye.
Than with your weapons.

Bra. O thou foul thief, where1 hast tliou stow; •("! my

daughter ?
Damned as thou art, thou hast enchanted her:

1 Quests are hero put, for nuf-ncn^crs ; properly it signified strircJtcrs.

2 A carmck, or cdrrick, was a *hip of great, bunion, a Spanisii Bailee:; ;
eo named from cdrico, a Uilii ];_':, <>i ircio-]it.

^ i. e. be cautious t be Jiscn.i.1.

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 409

For I'll refer me to all things of sense,

If she in chains of magic were not bound,

Whether a maid — so tender, fair, and happy ;

So opposite to marriage, that she shunned

The wealthy, curled 1 darlings of our nation —

Would ever have, to incur a general mock,

Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom

Of such a thing as thou ; to fear, not to delight.2

[Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,3

That thou hast practised on her with foul charms ;

Abused her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals,

That waken motion.4 — I'll have it disputed on ;

•Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.

1 therefore apprehend and do attach thee,]

For an abuser of the world, a practiser

Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. —

Lay hold upon him ; if he do resist,

Subdue him at his peril.

Oth. Hold your hands,

Both you of my inclining, and the rest.
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
Without a prompter. — Where will you that I go,
To answer this your charge ?

Bra. To prison ; till fit time

Of law, and course of direct session,
Call thee to answer.

Oth. What if I do obey ?

How may the duke be therewith satisfied ;
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the state.
To bring me to him ?

Off. 'Tis true, most worthy srlpror,

i It was the fashion of the Poet's time for lusty gallants to wear " a
curled bush of frizzled hair." Sec Hall's Satires, eel. .1824, bock 1:1.
sat. 5.

•2 "Of such a thing as thou; a thing to fear (i. e. terrify), not to
delight."

s'Tlio lines in crotchets are not in the first edition I to. Kft'?.

4 T'iO old copy reads, "Th::t weaken motion." The emendation is
Ilanmer's. Motion is elsewhor- used by our Poet precisely in thf sense
required here. To waken is to incite, to stir vp.
VOL. vii. 52

410 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT I

The duke's in council ; and jour noble self,
I am sure, is sent for.

Bra. How ! the duke in council !

In this time of the night ? — Bring him away.
Mine's not an idle cause : the duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the state,
Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own.
For if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves, and pagans,1 shall our statesmen be.

[Exeunt

SCENE III. The same. A Council Chamber.

The Duke,' and Senators, sitting at a table; Officers
attending.

o

Duke. There is no composition a in these news,
That gives them credit.

1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportioned ;
My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.

Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty.

2 Sen. And mine, two hundred.
But though they jump not on a just account,

(As in these cases, where the aim3 reports,
'Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment:

T I -I JO

I do not so secure me m the error,
But the main article I do approve
In fearful sense.

Sailor. [Within.] What, ho ! what, ho! what, ho!

1 Pagan was a word of contempt ; and the reason will appear from
its etymology: — " Paganus, villanus vel inculsus ; et derivatur a pagus
quod est villa. Et quicunque habitat in villa est paganns. Proeterea qui-
cunque est extra civitatcm Dei, i. e. ecclesiam, dicitur paganus ; anglice,
a//a?/mm." — Ortus Vocabulorum, 1528.

2 Composition for consistency. News was considered of the plural
number by our ancestors.

'.I Aim is guess, conjecture. The quarto roads, "thet/ aim reports."
The meaning appears to be, "In thoso cases where conjecture tells the
tale."

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. '113

Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,1
Sans witchcraft could not

Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul proceeding,
Hath thus beguiled jour daughter of herself,
And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall yourself road in the bitter letter,
After your own sense ; yea, though our proper son
Stood in your action.2

Bra. Humbly I thank your grace.

Here is the man, this Moor ; whom now, it seems,
Your special mandate, for the state affairs,
Hath hither brought.

Duke and Sen. We are very sorry for it.

Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to this?

[To OTHELLO

Bra. Nothing, but this is so.

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend seigniors,
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true ; true, I have married her ;
The very head and front of my offending3
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little blessed with the set4 phrase of peace ;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action 5 in the tented field ;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
Li .speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round, unvarnished tale deliver
Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms.
What conjuration, and wrhat mighty magic,
(For such proceeding I am charged withal,)

won his daughter with.6

1 This line is not in the first quarto.

0 « Were the man exposed to your charge or accusation.'1'

1 The main, the whole, unextenuated.

•; The i'ulio reads, " soft phrase of peace."
'•' That i.s, in modern language, their List exertion.
6 The word with, supplied in the second folio, is wanting in the older
copies.

114 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT 1

Bra. A maiden never bold ;

Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blushed at herself; l and she, — in spite of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing, —
To fall in love with what she feared to look on !
It is a judgment maimed, and most imperfect,
That will confess — perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature ; and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
He wrought upon her.

Duke. To vouch this, is no proof;

Without more certain and more overt test,
Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming,2 do prefer against him.

1 Sen. But, Othello, speak.
Did you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections ?
Or came it by request, and such fair question

As soul to soul affordeth ?

Oth. I do beseech you,

Send for the lady to the Sagittary,3
And let her speak of me before her father.
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office, I do hold of you,4
]\7ot only take away, but let your sentence
IMTII fall upon my life.

Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither.

Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the
place. — [Exeunt IAGO and Attendants.

And till she come, as truly 5 as to Heaven

1 Shakspearo, like other writers of his age, frequently uses the personal
instead of the neutral pronoun.

~ i. e. weak show of slight appearance. Modern is frequently used for
trijling, slight, or trivial, by Shakspcare.

3 The sign of the fictitious creature so called. See Troilus and
Cressida, Act v. Sc. 5.

4 This line is wanting in the first quarto.

•> The first quarto reads, as faithful: the next line is omitted in that
:opy.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 415

I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.

Duke. Say it, Othello.

Oth. Her father loved me ; oft invited me ;
Still questioned me the story of my life,
From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortiiK ^s,
That I have passed.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field ;
Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach ,
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence,
And poitance 1 in my travel's history :
Wherein of antres2 vast, and deserts wild,3
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch

heaven,

It was my hint to speak, such was the process ;
And of the cannibals that each other eat,
The anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do PTOVV beneath their shoulders.4 These things to

o a

hear,

1 The first quarto reads : —

" And with it all my travel's history."

By "my portance in my travel's history," perhaps, is meant, my carriage or
behavior in my travels, as described in my narration of thciii. Parlance
is thus used in Coriolanus.

a i. e. caverns (from antriim, Lat.).

3 The quarto and first folio read, "desarts idle;'1'' the second folio
reads, " desarts willc ; " and this reading was adopted by Pope.

"Mr. Malone taxes the editor of the second folio with ignorance of
Shakspeare's meaning ; and i lie is triumphantly reinstated in the text
It does not seem to have occurred to the commentators llul wild mi°p.
add a featur? of some import, even to a desert ; whereas idle, i. e. steru^t
leaves it just as it found it, and is (without a pun) the idlest epithet which
could be applied. Mr. Pope, too, had an ear for rhythm ; and as his
reading has some touch of Shakspeare. which the other has not, and is,
besides, better poetry, I should hope that it would one day resume its
proper place in the text." — Giffbrd. JVbtes on Sejanus. hen Jonsor^/
f forks. According to the suggestion of Mr. Gifford, the reading of tuc
second folio is here restored.

4 Nothing excited more universal attention than the accounts brouglr

416 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT 1.

Would Desdemona seriously incline :

But. still the house affairs would draw her thence ;

Which ever as she could with haste despatch,

She'd come again, and with a greedy ear,

Devour up my discourse ; which I, observing,

Took once a pliant hour ; and found good means

To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,

That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,

Whereof by parcels she had something heard,

But not intentively.1 I did consent ;

And often did beguile her of her tears,

When I did speak of some distressful stroke,

That my youth suffered. My story being done,

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs :

She swore 2 — In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing

strange ;

'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful;
She wished she had not heard it ; yet she wished
That Heaven had made her such a man : she thanked nib ;
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake
She loved me for the dangers I had passed ;
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used ;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants.

Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter too. —
Good Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at the best.

by sir Walter Raleigh, on his return from his celebrate' /oyage to
Guiana, in 1595, of the cannibals, amazons, and especially of the nation —

" Avhose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders."

See his Narrative in Hackluyt's Voyages, vol. iii. ed. 1COO, fol. p
652, et seq. p. 077, &c. These extraordinary reports were universally
credited.

1 Intention arid attention were once synonymous.

2 To aver upon faith or honor was caisidered swearing.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 417

Men do their broken weapons rather use,
Than their bare hands.

Bra. I pray you, hear her speak ;

If she confess that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
Light on the man ! — Come hither, gentle mistress ;
Do you perceive in all this noble company,
Where most you owe obedience ?

Des. My noble father,

I do perceive here a divided duty.
To you I am bound for life and education ;
My life and education both do learn me
How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty ;
I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband ;
And so much duty as my mother showed
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.

Bra. God be with you ! — I have done. —

Please it your grace, on to the state affa..s ;
I had rather to adopt a child, than get it. —
Come hither, Moor.

I here do give thee that with all my heart,
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee. — For your sake, jewel,
1 am glad at soul I have no other child ;
For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them. — I have done, my lord.

Duke. Let me speaklikeyourself;1 andlayasentence,
Which has a grise,2 or step, may help these lovers
Into your favor.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw7 new mischief on.

1 i. e. "let me speak as yourself would speak, were you not too much
heated with passion." — Sir J. Reynolds.

2 Grisc. This word occurs again, in the same sense, in Timon of
Athens—

" For every grise of fortune

Is smoothed by that below."
VOL. vii. 53

OTHELLO. THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT 1

What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robbed, that smiles, steals something from the thief
He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.

Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile ;
We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
Fie bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from thence he hears ;
But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal ;
But words are words ; I never yet did hear
That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.1
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation
makes for Cyprus. — Othello, the fortitude of the place
is best known to you ; and though wre have there a
substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a
sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice
on you ; you must therefore be content to slubber 2 the
gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn
and boisterous expedition.

Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down.3 I do agnize 4
A natural and prompt alacrity,
I find in hardness ; and do undertake
These present wars against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife ;
Due reference of place, and exhibition,5

1 i. e. " that the wounds of sorrow were ever cured by the words of
consolation." Pierced is here used for penetrated.

~ To slubber here means to obscure.

'^ A driven bed is a bed for which the feathers have been selected by
driving Avith a fan, which separates the light from the heavy.

4 To agnize is to acknowledge, confess, or avow. It sometimes signi
fied "to know by some token, to admit, or allow."

5 " I desire that proper disposition be made for my wife, that she may
nave a Jit jilace appointed for her residence, and such allownnre, accom-
modation, and attendance, as befits her rank." Exhibition for allowance
has already occurred in King Lear, and in The Two Gentlemen of
Verona.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 419

With such accommodation, and besort,
As levels with her breeding.

Duke. If you please,

Be't at her father's.

Bra. I'll not have it so.

Oth. Nor I.

Des. Nor I ; I would not there reside,

To put my father in impatient thoughts,
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend a gracious ear ; 1
And let me find a charter in your voice,2
To assist my simpleness.

Duke. What would you, Desdemona ?

Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes 3
May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdued
Even to the very quality4 of my lord.
I saw Othello's visage in his mind ;
And to his honors, and his valiant parts,
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

Oth. Your voices, lords; — 'beseech you, let her will
Have a free way.

Vouch with me, Heaven ; I therefore beg it not,
To please the palate of my appetite ;
Nor to comply with heat (the young affects,

1 Thus in the quarto 1622. The folio, to avoid the repetition of the
same epithet, reads : —

" Most gracious duke,

To my unfolding lend a prosperous ear."

2 That is, " let your favor privilege me."

3 By her "downright violence and storm of fortunes" Desdemona
means, the bold and decisive measures she had taken in giving herself to
»he Moor. The old quarto reads scorn of fortune.

4 Quality here, as in other passages of Shakspeare, means profession.
The quarto reads, " My heart's subdued even to the utmost pleasure of my
lord."

420 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT J

111 me defunct) and proper satisfaction ; ]

But to be free and bounteous to her mind.

And Heaven defend jour good souls, that you think

I will jour serious and great business scant,

For 2 she is with me. No, when light-winged tojs

Of feathered Cupid seel with wanton dulness

My speculative and active instruments,3

That mj disports corrupt and taint my business,

Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,

And all indign and base adversities

Make head against my estimation ! 4

Dyke. Be it as you shall privately determine,
Either for her stay, or going : the affair cries — haste,
And speed must answer it ; you must hence to-night.

Des. To-night, my lord ?

Duke. This night.

Oth. With all my heart.

Duke. At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.

1 Steevens reads, at the suggestion of sir T. Hanmer: —

" Nor to comply with heat, the young affects,

In my distinct and proper satisfaction."

Malone reads disjunct instead of distinct. In the Bondman of Massinger
we have a passage evidently copied from this speech of Othello- —

me

Your colors, lady, and though youthful heats,
That look no further than your outward form,
Are, long since buried in me, while I live,
I am a constant lover of your mind," &c.

Mr. Gilford observes, that, " as this shows how Shakspeare's contempo
raries understood the lines, it should, I think, with us be decisive of their
meaning." Jljfects occur incessantly in the sense of passions, affections ;
young affects are therefore perfectly synonymous with youthful heats. Mr.
Gifford suggests that Shakspeare may have given affect in the singular to
correspond with heat. Dr. Johnson's explanation is : — " I ask it not (says
Othello) to please appetite or satisfy loose desires, the passions of youth,
which I have now outlived, or for any particular gratification of myseF
but merely that I may indulge the wishes of my wife."

2 i. e. because.

3 Thus the folio; except that, instead of active instruments, it has qfficed
instrument. The quarto reads ".And feathered Cupid foils," &c. Specu
lative instruments, in Shakspeare's language, are the eyes ; and active
instruments, the hands and feet. To seel is to close up. The meaning of
the passage appears to be, " When the pleasures and idle toys of love
make me unfit either for seeing the duties of my office, or for the ready
performance of them."

4 The quarto reads reputation.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 421

Othello, leave some officer behind,
And he shall our commission bring to you ;
With such things else of quality and respect,
As doth import you.

Oth. Please your grace, my ancient ;

A man he is of honesty and trust ;
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good grace shall think
To be sent after me.

Duke. Let it be so. —

Good night to every one. — And, noble seignior.

[To BRABANTIO.

If virtue no delighted l beauty lack.
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor ! use Desdemona well.

Bra. Look to her, Moor ; have a quick eye to see ;
She has deceived her father, and may thee.

[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, &c.

Oth. My life upon her faith. — Honest lago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee.
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her ;
And bring them after in the best advantage.2
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
To spend with thee ; we must obey the time.

[Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA.

Rod. lago —

lago. What say'st thou, noble heart?

Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou ?

lago. Why, go to bed, and sleep.

Rod. I will incontinently drown myself.

lago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee
after it. Why, thou silly gentleman !

Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment ;
and then have we a prescription to die, when death is
our physician.

lago. O, villanous ! I have looked upon the world

1 Delighted for delighting.

2 i. e. fairest opportunity.

422 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT I.

for four times seven years ! } and since I could dis
tinguish between a benefit and an injury, I never found
a man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would
say I would drown myself for the love of a Guinea-hen,a
I would change my humanity with a baboon.

Rod. What should I do ? I confess it is my shame
to be so fond ; but it is not in virtue to amend it.

logo. Virtue ? a fig ! 'tis in ourselves, that we are
thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens ; to the
which, our wills are gardeners : so that if we will
plant nettles, or sow lettuce ; set hyssop, and weed up
thyme ; supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract
it with many ; either to have it sterile with idleness, or
manured with industry ; why, the power and corrigible
authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance 3 of
our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another
of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures
would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions.
But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our
carnal stings, our unbitted lusts ; whereof I take this,
that you call — love, to be a sect,4 or scion.

Rod. It cannot be.

lago. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a per
mission of the will. Come, be a man ; drown thyself!
drown cats, and blind puppies. I have professed me
thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with
cables of perdurable toughness ; I could never better
stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse ; follow
these wars ; defeat thy favor with an usurped beard ; 5
I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be, that
Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor,
— put money in thy purse ; — nor he his to her. It was
a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an an-

1 In the novel, on which Othello is founded, lago is described as a
young, handsome man.

2 *2 Guinea-hen was a cant term for a woman of easy virtue.

3 The folio reads " if the brain ; " probably a mistake for learn.

4 A sect is what the gardeners call a cutting. The modern editors read
a set.

5 Defeat was used for disfigurement or alteration of features ; from the
French defaire. Favor means that combination of features which gives
the lace its distinguishing character.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 423

swerable sequestration : l — put but money in thy purse.
— These Moors are changeable in their wills : — fill thy
purse with money ; the food that to him now is as
luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as
coloquintida.2 She must change for youth ; when she
is sated with his body, she will find the error of her
choice. — She must have change, she must ; therefore
put money in thy purse. — If thou wilt needs damn
thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning.
Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony and a
frail vow, betwixt an erring3 barbarian and a super-
subtle Venetian, be not too hard for my wits, and all
the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make
money. A pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out
of the way ; seek thou rather to be hanged in compass
ing thy joy, than to be drowned and go without her.

Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend
on the issue ?

Ictgo. Thou art sure of me. — Go, make money ;
— I have told thee often, and I retell thee again and
again, I hate the Moor. My cause is hearted;4 thine
hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our
revenue against him ; if thou canst cuckold him, thou
dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. There are
many events in the womb of time, which will be de
livered. Traverse ; 5 go ; provide thy money. We
will have more of this to-morrow. — Adieu.

Rod. Where shall we meet i' the morning ?

Ictgo. At my lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.

laoro. Go to : farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo ?

Rod. What say you ?

lago. No more of drowning ; do you hear :

Rod. I am changed. I -11 sell all mv land.

1 Sequestration is defined to be " a putting apart, a separation of a thing
from the possession of those that contend for it."

2 The quarto reads " as acerb as coloquintida."

3 Erring is the same as erraticus in Latin.

4 This adjective occurs again in Act iii. : — "hearted throne."

5 i. e. march.

424 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II

lago. Go to ; farewell ; put money enough in your
purse. [Exit RODERIGO.

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse ;
For I mine own gained knowledge should profane,
If I would time expend with such a snipe,
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor ;
And it is thought abroad, that 'tvvixt my sheets
He has done my office. I know not if 't be true ;
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do, as if for surety.1 He holds me well ;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man. Let me see now ;
To get his place, and to plume 2 up my will ;
A double knavery, — How ? how ? — Let me see. —
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife. —
He hath a person ; and a smooth dispose
To be suspected ; framed to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so ;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,
As asses are.

I have't; — it is engendered. — Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light

[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Seaport town in Cyprus. A
Platform.

Enter MONTANO and Two Gentlemen.

Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea ?
1 Gent. Nothing at all. It is a high- wrought flood ;

1 That is, I will act as if I were certain of the fact. " He holds me
well," is, he entertains a good opinion of me.

2 The first quarto reads " to make up."

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 425

I cannot, 'twixt the heaven ] and the main,
Descry a sail.

Mon. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land ;
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements.
If it hath ruffianed so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,2
Can hold the mortise ? what shall we hear of this ?

2 Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet.
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,3
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds ;

The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous main,
Seems to cast water on the burning bear,4
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole.
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafed flood.

Mon. If that the Turkish fleet

Be not ensheltered and embayed, they are drowned;
It is impossible they bear it out.

Enter a third Gentleman.

3 Gent. News, lords ! our wars are done ;
The desperate tempest hath so banged the Turks,
That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice
Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance

On most part of their fleet.

Mon. How ! is this true ?

3 Gent. The ship is here put in,
A Veronese;5 Michael Cassio,

1 The quarto reads : —

" 'twixt the haven and the main ; "

and Malone adopts that reading.

2 The quarto of 1622 reads, " when the huge mountaine meslt" the letter
5, which, perhaps, belongs to mountaine, having wandered, at press, from
its place. In Troilus and Cressida we have : —

" The strong-ribbed bark through liquid mountains cuts."

3 The elder quarto reads " the banning shore."

4 The constellation near the polar star. The next line alludes to the
star Jlrctophylax, which literally signifies the guard of the bear. The
4to. 1622 reads " ever-Jired pole."

5 The old copy reads " a Veronessa ; " whether this signified a ship fitted
out by the people of Verona, who were tributary to the Venetian republic,
or designated some particular kind of vessel, is not yet eslabi.sli'v d.

VOL. vii. 54

426 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II.

Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,
Is come on shore ; the Moor himself's at sea,
Arid is in full commission here for Cyprus.

Mon. I am glad on't ; 'tis a worthy governor.

3 Gent. But this same Cassio, — though he speak of

comfort,

Touching the Turkish loss, — yet he looks sadly,
And prays the Moor be safe ; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.

Mon. 'Pray Heaven, he be ;

For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full 1 soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho !
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello;
Even till we make the main, and the aerial blue,
An indistinct regard.

3 Gent. Come, let's do so ;

For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.

Enter CASSIO.

Cas. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,
That so approve the Moor. O, let the Heavens
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea !

Mon. Is he well shipped ?

Cas. His bark is stoutly timbered, and his pilot
Of very expert and approved allowance;2
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.3

.'] A sail, a sail, a sail!

Enter another Gentleman.

Cas. What noise ?

4 Gent. The town is empty ; on the brow o' the sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry — A sail.

1 A full soldier i§ a complete one. See Acti. Sc. 1.

2 i. e. of allowed and approved expertness.

3 Stand in confidence of being cured.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 427

Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor.

2 Gent. They do diseharge their shot of courtesy ;

[Guns heard.
Our friends, at least.

Cas. I pray you, sir, go forth,

And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

2 Gent. I shall. [Exit.

Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wived ?

Cas. Most fortunately. He hath achieved a maid
That paragons description, and wild fame ;
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in the essential vesture of creation,
Does bear all excellency.1 — How now ? who has
put in ?

Re-enter second Gentleman.

2 Gent. 'Tis one lago, ancient to the general.

Cas. He has had most favorable and happy speed.
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The guttered rocks, and congregated sands, —
Traitors ensteeped 2 to clog the guiltless keel,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal 3 natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.

Mon. What is she ?

Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's

captain,

Left in the conduct of the bold lago ;
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A se'nnight's speed. — Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath ;
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,

1 This is the reading of the quartos : the folio has : —

" And in the essential vesture of creation

Do's tyre the Ingeniuer"

If the reading of the folio be adopted, the meaning would be this: — She is
one who excels all description ; and, in real beauty, or outward form, goes
beyond the power of the inventive pencil of the artist

2 « Traitors ensteeped " are merely traitors concealed under the water.

3 Deadly, destructive.

428 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II,

Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renewed fire to our extincted spirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort ! — O, behold,

Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and
Attendants.

The riches of the ship is come on shore ! 1
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. —
Hail to thee, lady ! and the grace of Heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round !

Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio.

What tidings can you tell me of my lord ?

Cas. He is not yet arrived ; nor know I aught
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.

Des. O, but I fear ; — How lost you company ?

Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship. But, hark ! a sail.

[Cry within, A sail, a sail ! then guns heard.

2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel ;
This likewise is a friend.

Cas. See for the news.2 —

[Exit Gentleman.

Good ancient, you are welcome ; — welcome, mis
tress. — [To EMILIA.
Let it not gall your patience, good lago,
That I extend my manners ; 'tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

[Kissing her.

lago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.

Des. Alas, she has no speech.

lago. In faith, too much ;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep.
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,

1 Shakspeare uses riches as a singular, in his eighty-seventh sonnet

2 The first quarto reads, " So speaks this voice."

SC.'I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 429

She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.

Emit. You have little cause to say so.

lago. Come on, come on ; you are pictures out of

doors,

Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries,1 devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your
beds.

Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer !

lago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk;
You rise to play, and go to bed to wrork.

Emil. You shall not write my praise.

lago. No, let me not.

Des. What wouldst thou write of me, if thou
shouldst praise me ?

lago. O gentle lady, do not put me to't ;
For I am nothing, if not critical.2

Des. Come on, assay ; — there's one gone to the
harbor ?

lago. Ay, madam.

Des. I am not merry ; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. —
Come, how wouldst thou praise me ?

lago. I am about it ; but, indeed, my invention
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize,
It plucks it out brains and all. But my muse labors,
And thus she is delivered : —
If she be fair and wise, — fairness, and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.

Des. Well praised ! How if she be black and witty ?

lago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.3

Des. Worse and worse.

Emil. How, if fair and foolish ?

lago. She never yet was foolish that was fair,
For even her folly helped her to an heir.

1 That is, When you have a mind to do injuries, you put on an air of
sanctity.

2 i. e. censorious. 3 The quarto reads hit.

430 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II

Des. These are old, fond paradoxes, to make fools
laugh i' the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou
for her that's foul and foolish ?

lago. There's none so foul, and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

Des. O heavy ignorance ! — thou praisest the worst
best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a de
serving woman indeed ! one, that, in the authority of
her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice
itself?1

lago. She that was ever fair, and never proud ;
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud ;
Never lacked gold, and yet went never gay ;
Fled from her wish, and yet said, — Now I may ;
She that, being angered, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly ;
She, that in wisdom never was so frail,
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail ; 2
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind ;
She was a wight, — if ever such wight were, —

Des. To do what ?

lago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.3

Des. O, most lame and impotent conclusion ! — Do
not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. —
How say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and
liberal 4 counsellor ?

Cas. He speaks home, madam ; you may relish him
more in the soldier, than in the scholar.

lago. [Aside.] He takes her by the palm. Ay,
well said, whisper ; with as little a web as this, will [
ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her,
do ; I will gyve 5 thee in thine own courtship. You

1 The sense is this — one that was so conscious of her own merit, and
of the authority her character had with every one, that she durst call
upon malice itself to vouch for her. To put on is to provoke, to incite.

2 That is, to exchange a delicacy for coarser fare. See Queen Eliz
abeth's Household Book for the forty-third year of her reign: — " Item,
the master cookes have to fee all the salmons'1 tailcs" &c. p. 29C.

3 i. e. "to suckle children and keep the accounts of the household."

4 Liberal is licentious.

5 To gyve is to fetter, to shackle. The first quarto reads, " I will catch

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 131

say true ; 'tis so, indeed. If such tricks as these strip you
out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had
not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again
you are most apt to play the sir in. Very good ; well
kissed ! an excellent courtesy ! 'tis so, indeed. Yet
again your fingers to your lips ? 'would they were

clyster-pipes for your sake ! [ Trumpet.'] The Moor —

I know his trumpet.

Cas. 'Tis truly so.

Des. Let's meet him, and receive him.

Cas. Lo, where he comes !

Enter OTHELLO, and Attendants.

Oth. O my fair warrior !

Des. My dear Othello !

Oth. It gives me wonder, great as my content,
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy !
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have wakened death !
And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas,
Olympus-high ; and duck again as low
As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die,
'Tvvere now to be most happy ; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

Des. The Heavens forbid

But that our loves and comforts should increase,
Even as our days do grow !

Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers ! — •

I cannot speak enough of this content;
It stops me here; it is too much of joy.
And this, and this, the greatest discords be,

[Kissing her.
That e'er our hearts shall make !

lago. O, you are well tuned now '

you in your own courtsies" Courtship is the same as courtesy, i. e. com
plimentary or courtly behavior. To play the sir, is to show good
breeding and gallantry.

432 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II.

But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,

As honest as I am. [Aside.

Oth. Come, let's to the castle. —

News, friends ; our wars are done ; the Turks are

drowned.

How do our old acquaintance of this isle ? —
Honey, you shall be well desired l in Cyprus ;
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion,2 and I dote
In min'e own comforts. — I pr'ythee, good Tago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers.
Bring thou the master to the citadel ;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. — Come, Desdemona ;
Once more, well met at Cyprus.

[Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and
Attendants.

lago. Do thou meet me presently at the harbor.
Come hither. If thou be'st valiant, — as (they say) base
men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures
more than is native to them, — list me. The lieutenant
to-night watches on the court of guard.3 — First, I must
tell thee this — Desdemona is directly in love with him.

Rod. With him ! why, 'tis not possible.

lago. Lay thy finger — thus,4 and let thy soul be
instructed. Mark me with what violence she first loved
the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical
lies ; and will she love him still for prating ? Let not thy
discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed; and
what delight shall she have to look on the devil ?
When the blood is made dull with the act of sport,
there should be — again to inflame it, and to give
satiety a fresh appetite — loveliness in favor; sympathy
in years, manners, and beauties ; all which the Moor is
defective in. Now, for want of these required con
veniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused,

1 i. e. much solicited by invitation.

2 Out of method, without any settled order of discourse.

3 That is, the place where the guard musters.

4 On thy mouth to stop it, while thou art listening to a wiser man.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VEiNICE. 433

begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor ;
very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to
some second choice. Now, sir, this granted, (as it is
a most pregnant and unforced position,) who stands so
eminently in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio does ?
a knave very voluble ; no further conscionable, than in
putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming,
for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden,
loose affection? Why, none; why, none. A slippery
and subtle knave : a finder out of occasions ; that has
an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though
true advantage never present itself : a devilish knave !
besides, the knave is handsome, young ; and hath all
those requisites in h'"^, that folly and green minds1
look after : a pestilent, complete knave ; and the
woman hath found him already.

Rod. I cannot believe that in her ; she is full of
most blessed condition.2

lago. Blessed fig's end ! the wine she drinks is
made of grap^ ; if she had been blessed, she would
never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst
thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand ?
didst not mark that ?

Rod. Yes, that I did ; but that was but courtesy.

lago. Lechery, by this hand ; an index,3 and obscure
prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts.
They met so near with their lips, that their breaths
embraced together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo !
when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at
hand comes the master and main exercise, the incor
porate conclusion. Pish ! — But, sir, be you ruled by
me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you
to-night ; for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio
knows you not ; — I'll not be far from you. Do you
find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking
too loud, or tainting4 his discipline ; or from what other

1 Minds unripe, minds not yet fully formed.

2 Qualities, disposition of mind.

3 Indexes were formerly prefixed to books.

4 Throwing a slur upon his discipline.
VOL. vii. 55

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II.

course you please, which the time shall more favorably
minister.

Rod. Well.

lago. Sir, he is rash, and very sudden1 in choler,
and, haply, with his truncheon may strike at you.
Provoke him, that he may ; for, even out of that, will
I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny ; whose qualifica
tion 2 shall come into no true taste again, but by the
displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter
journey to your desires, by the means I shall then have
to prefer3 them; and the impediment most profitably
removed, without the which there were no expectation
of our prosperity.

Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any oppor
tunity.

lago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the
citadel ; I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.

Rod. Adieu. [Exit.

logo. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it ;
That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit.
The Moor — howbeit that I endure him not —
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature ;
And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona
A most dear husband. Now I do love her too ;
Not out of absolute lust, (though, peradventure,
I stand accountant for as great a sin,)
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leaped into my seat ; the thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards ;
And nothing can or shall content my soul,
Till I am even 4 with him, wife for wife ;
Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, —

1 Sudden is precipitately violent

2 Qualification, in our old writers, signifies appeasement, pacification,
assuagement of anger.

a To advance them.

4 Thus the quarto 1622 ; the folio — till I am evened with him.

SC. 11.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 435

If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace l

For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,

I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip ;

Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb,2

For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too ;

Make the Moor thank me, love ine, and reward me,

For making him egregiously an ass,

And practising upon his peace and quiet,

Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused ;

Knavery's plain face is never seen, till used. [Exit.

SCENE II. A Street.

Enter a Herald, with a proclamation; People following.

Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, im
porting the mere 3 perdition of the Turkish fleet, every
man put himself into triumph ; some to dance, some
to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels
his addiction leads him ; for, besides these beneficial
news, it is the celebration of his nuptials. So much
was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices4
are open ; and there is full liberty of feasting, from
this present hour of five, till the bell hath told eleven.
Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus, and our noble general,
Othello ! [Exeunt.

i "If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace

For his quick hunting, bear the putting on,'' &c.

This is the reading of the folio ; the quarto of 1622 reads crush, which the
commentators altered to trash, signifying to impede, to keep back ; a meaning
the very converse of that required by the context : to trace means neither
more nor less than to follow, the appropriate hunting term ; the Id French
tracer, tracker, trasser, and the Italian tracciare, having the same meaning.

2 " In the rank garb" is " in the right down or straight forward fashion."
The folio reads " in the right garb."

3 Mere, is entire.

4 All rooms or places in the castle, at which refreshments are prepared
or served out.

436 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II.

SCENE III. A Hall in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants.

Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night.
Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop,
Not to outsport discretion.

Cas. lasro hath direction what to do :

O "

But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to't.

Oth. I ago is most honest.

Michael, good night ; to-morrow, with our earliest,
Let me have speech with you. — Come, my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue ;

[To DESDEMONA.

That profit's yet to come 'twixt me and you.—
Good night. [Exeunt OTH., DES., and Attend.

Enter I AGO.

Cas. Welcome, lago ; we must to the watch.

lago. Not this hour, lieutenant ; 'tis not yet ten
o'clock. Our general cast 1 us thus early, for the love
of his Desdemona ; whom let us not therefore blame ;
he hath not yet made wanton the night with her ; and
she is sport for Jove.

Cas. She's a most exquisite lady.

lago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game.

Cas. Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate
creature.

lago. What an eye she has ! Methinks it sounds a
parley of provocation.

Cas. An inviting eye ; and yet, methinks, right
modest.

lago. And, when she speaks, is it not an alarm
to love ?

Cas. She is, indeed, perfection.

1 i. e. dismissed us.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 437

lago. Well, happiness to their sheets ! Come,
lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine ; and here without
are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a
measure to the health of black Othello.

Cas. Not to-night, good lago ; I have very poor
and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish
courtesy would invent some other custom of entertain
ment.

lago. O, they are our friends. But one cup; I'll
drink for you.

Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that
was craftily qualified 1 too, and, behold, what innovation
it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and
dare not task my weakness with any more.

lago. What, man ! 'tis a night of revels ; the
gallants desire it.

Cas. Where are they ?

lago. Here at the door ; I pray you, call them in.

Cas. I'll do't ; but it dislikes me. [Exit CASSIO.

lago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool,

Roderigo,

Whom love has turned almost the wrong side out
ward,

To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch.
Three lads of Cyprus, — noble swelling spirits,
That hold their honors in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,2
Have I to-night flustered with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of

drunkards,

Am I to put our Cassio in some action
That may offend the isle. — But here they come :

1 Slyly mixed with water.

2 " As quarrelsome as the discordia semina rerum ; as quick in opposition
as fire and water."

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II

If consequence do but approve my dream,1

My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

Re-enter CASSIO, with him MONTANO, and Gentlemen.

Cas. Tore Heaven, they have given me a rouse 9
already.

Mon. Good faith, a little one ; not past a pint, as
I am a soldier.

lago. Some wine, ho !

And let me the canakin clink, clink ; [Sings.

And let me the canakin clink :

A soldier's a man ;

A life's but a span ;
Why, then, let a soldier drink.

Some wine, boys ! [Wine brought in.

Cas. 'Fore Heaven, an excellent song.

lago. I learned it in England, where (indeed) they
are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German,
and your swag-bellied Hollander, — drink, ho ! — are
nothing to your English.

Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking ? 3

lago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane
dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain ;
he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
can be filled.

Cas. To the health of our general.

Mon. I am for it, lieutenant ; and I'll do you
justice.4

lago. O, sweet England !

King Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown ;

He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he called the tailor — lown.

1 Every scheme subsisting only in the imagination may be termed a
dream.

2 See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2, note 1, p. 264.

3 Thus the quarto 1622. The folio has exquisite.

4 i. e. drink as much as you do.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 439

He was a wight of high renown.
And thou art but of low degree ;

'Tis pride that pulls the country down ;
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.

Some wine, ho !

Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the
other.

lago. Will you hear it again ?

Cas. No ; for I hold him to be unworthy of his
place, that does those things. — Well, — Heaven's above
all ; and there be souls that must be saved, and there
be souls must not be saved.

lago. It's true, good lieutenant.

Cas. For mine own part, — no offence to the gen
eral, or any man of quality, — I hope to be saved.

lago. And so do 1 too, lieutenant.

Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the
lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
have no more of this ; let's to our affairs. — Forgive us
our sins ! — Gentlemen, let's look to our business. Do
not think, gentlemen, I am drunk; this is my ancient;
— this is my right hand, and this is my left hand. — I
am not drunk now ; I can stand well enough, and
speak well enough.

All. Excellent well.

Cas. Why, very well, then ; you must not think,
then, that I am drunk. [Exit

Mon. To the platform, masters ; come, let's set the
watch.

lago. You see this fellow, that is gone before. —
He is a soldier, fit to stand by Caesar
And give direction ; and do but see his vice ;
'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as the other ; 'tis pity of him.
I fear the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity
Will shake this island.

Mon. But is he often thus?

lago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.

440 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II.

He'll watch the horologe a double set,1
If drink rock not his cradle.

Mon. It were well

The general were put in mind of it.
Perhaps he sees it not ; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils. Is not this true ?

Enter RODERIGO.

lago. How now, Roderigo? [Aside.

I pray you, after the lieutenant ; go. [Exit RODERIGO.

Mon. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place, as his own second,
With one of an ingraft 2 infirmity ;
It were an honest action to say
So to the Moor.

lago. Not I, for this fair island.

I do love Cassio well ; and would do much
To cure him of this evil. But hark ! what noise?

[Cry within — Help! help!

Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO.

Cas. You rogue, ! you rascal !

Mon. What's the matter, lieutenant ?

Cas. A knave ! — teach rne my duty !
I'll beat the knave into a twiggen3 bottle.

Rod. Beat me !

Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue ?

[Striking RODERIGO.

Mon. Nay, good lieutenant ;

[Staying him.
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

Cas. Let me go, sir,

Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

1 If he have no drink, he'll keep awake while the clock strikes two
rounds, or four-and-twenty hours. — The word horologe is familiar to !!i'x-t
of our ancient writers.

2 Rooted, settled. 3 i. e. a wickered bottle ; and so the quarto rea<1s.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 441

Mon. Come, come, you're drunk.

Cas. Drunk! [They fight.

lago. Away, I say ! go out, and cry — A mutiny.

[Aside to ROD., who goes out.
Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gentlemen, —
Help, ho! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — sir ; —
Help, masters ! — Here's a goodly watch, indeed !

[Bell rings.

Who's that that rings the bell ? — Diablo, ho !
The town will rise ; God's will, lieutenant ! hold ;
You will be shamed forever.

Enter OTHELLO and Attendants.

Oth. What is the matter here ?

Mon. I bleed still ; I am hurt to the death ; — he dies.1

Oth. Hold, for your lives.

lago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, sir, Montano, — gen
tlemen, —

Have you forgot all sense of place and duty ?
Hold, hold ! the general speaks to you ; hold, for
shame !

Oth. Why, how now, ho ! from whence ariseth this ?
Are we turned Turks ; and to ourselves do that,
Which Heaven hath forbid the Ottomites ?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl.
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage.
Holds his soul light ; he dies upon his motion. —
Silence that dreadful bell ; it frights the isle
From her propriety. — What is the matter, masters ?
Honest lago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.

lago. I do not know ; — friends all but now, even now,
In quarter,2 and in terms like bride and groom

1 The first quarto omits the words he dies, and has zounds! at the
commencement of the line. Montano may be supposed to say he di°s,
i. e. he shall die, Othello, in the very next speech, says, He dies upon
his motion."

2 i. e. on our station. This seems the loading1 signification, for the
principal camp-guard of a regiment is called the quarter- gi\a.r6. ; hut a
regiment in quarters has no such guard.

VOL. vii. 56

442 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II

Divesting them for bed ; and then, but now,
(As if some planet had unwilled men,)
Swords oul, and tilting one at other's breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds ;
And 'would in action glorious I had lost
These legs, that brought me to a part of it !

Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?1

Cas. I pray you, pardon me, I cannol speak.

Oth. Worthy Monlano, you were wont be civil;
The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure. What's the matter,
That you unlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion,12 for the name
Of a night brawler ? Give me answer to it.

Man. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger.
Your officer, lago, can inform you —
While I spare speech, (which something now offends

me) —

Of all thai I do know : nor know I aught
By me that's said or done amiss this night ;
Unless self-charity 3 be sometime a vice ;
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,
When violence assails us.

Oth. Now, by Heaven,

My blood begins my safer guides to rule ;
And passion, having my best judgment collied,4
Assays to lead the way. If I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on ;
And he that is approved 5 in this offence,
Though he had twinned with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. — What ! in a town of war,

1 i. e. you have thus forgot yourself.

2 Character.

3 Care of one's self.

4 Collied is blackened, as with smut or coal ; and, figuratively, means here
obscured, darkened.

5 Convicted by proof.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 443

Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel,
In night, and on the court of guard and safety ! J
'Tis monstrous. — lago, who began it ?

Mon. If partially affined,2 or leagued in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.

lago. Touch me not so near.

I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio ;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. — Thus it. is, general.

o o ' O

Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow, crying out for help ;
And Cassio following with determined sword,3
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause ;
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest, by his clamor, (as it so fell out,)
The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose ; and I returned the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath ; which, till to-night,
I ne'er might say before. When I came back
(For this was brief) I found them close together,
At blow, and thrust ; even as again they were,
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter can I not report ;—
But men are men ; the best sometimes forget. —
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, —
As men in rage strike those that wish them best, —
Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, received,
From him that fled, some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.

1 The old copies read : —

"In night, and on the court and guard of safety."
Malone made the necessary transposition.

2 Affined is " bound by proximity of relationship ; " but here it meana
<; related by nearness of office."

3 The old copy reads : —

" And Cassio following him with determined sword."

444 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II.

Oth. I know, lago,

Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio. — Cassio, I love thee ;
But never more be officer of mine. —

Enter DESDEMONA, attended.

Look, if my gentle love be not raised up ; —
I'll make thee an example.

Des. What's the matter, dear ?

Oth. All's well now, sweeting ; come away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts,
Myself will be your surgeon ; — Lead him off.1

[To MONTANO, who is led off.
lago, look with care about the town ;
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. —
Come, Desdemona ; 'tis the soldiers' life,
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.

[Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO.

lago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant ?

Cas. Ay, past all surgery.

lago. Marry, Heaven forbid !

Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation ! O, I have
lost my reputation ! I have lost the immortal part, sir,
of myself, and what remains is bestial. — My reputation,
lago, my reputation.

lago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had
received some bodily wound ; there is more offence in
that, than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and
most false imposition ; oft got without merit, and lost
without desemng. You have lost no reputation at all,
unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man !
there are ways to recover the general again. You
are but now cast in his mood,2 a punishment more in
policy than in malice ; even so as one would beat his

1 Malone thinks that the words "Lead him off" were originally a
marginal stage direction, as it was common to express them in imperative
terms : — " Play music. — Ring the bell. — Lead him off" &c.

2 Thrown off, dismissed in his anger.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 445

offenceless dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to
him again, and he's yours.

Cas. I will rather sue to be despised, than to deceive
so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and
so indiscreet an officer. Drunk ? and speak parrot ? l
and squabble ? swagger ? swear ? and discourse fustian
with one's own shadow? — O thou invisible spirit of
wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call
thee — devil !

lago. What was he that you followed with your
sword ? What had he done to you ?

Cas. I know not.

lago. Is it possible ?

Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing
distinctly ; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. — O that
men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal
away their brains ! that we should, with joy, revel,
pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts !

lago. Why, but you are now well enough. How
came you thus recovered ?

Cas. It hath pleased the devil, drunkenness, to give
place to the devil, wrath ; one unperfectness shows me
another, to make me frankly despise myself.

lago. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the
time, the place, and the condition of this country stands,
I could heartily wish this had not befallen ; but, since
it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

Cas. I will ask him for my place again ; he shall
tell me I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as
Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be
now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently
a beast! O, strange! — Every inordinate cup is un
blessed, and the ingredient is a devil.

lago. Come, come, good wine is a familiar good
creature, if it be well used ; exclaim no more against it
And, good lieutenant, I think, you think I love you.

Cas. I have well approved it, sir. — I drunk !

1 i. e. talk idly, utter all you know. From Drunlc, &c. to shadow, in«
clusively, is wanting in the quarto 1622.

446 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II.

lago. You, or any man living, may be drunk at some
time, man. I'll tell you what you shall do. Our gen
eral's wife is now the general ; — I may say so in this
respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself
to the contemplation, mark, arid denotement1 of her
parts and graces : — Confess yourself freely to her ; im
portune her ; she'll help to put you in your place again ;
she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
that she holds it a vice in her goodness, not to do more
than she is requested. This broken joint2 between
you and her husband, entreat her to splinter ; and, my
fortunes against any lay 3 worth naming, this crack of
your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

Cas. You advise me well.

lago. I protest, in the sincerity of love, and honest
kindness.

Cas. I think it freely ; and betimes in the morning,
I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for
me. I am desperate of my fortunes, if they check me
here.

logo. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant;
I must to the watch.

Cas. Good night, honest lago. [Exit CASSIO.

lago. And what's he, then, that says, — I play the

villain ?

When this advice is free,4 I give, and honest,
Probal to thinking, and (indeed) the course
To win the Moor again ? for, 'tis most easy
The inclining5 Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit; she's framed as fruitful6
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor, — were't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, —

1 The old copies read devotement. Theobald made the correction.

2 Thus the folio. The quarto 1622 reads, this brawl.

3 Bet or wager.

4 i. e. liberal ; such as honest openness or frank good will would give.
There may be such a contraction of the word probable as that in the next
line, but it lias not yet been met with elsewhere.

5 Inclining here signifies compliant.

9 Koimtiful as the elements, out of which all things were produced.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 447

His soul is so enfettered to her love,

That she may make, unmake, do what she list,

Even as her appetite shall play the god

With his weak function. How am I then a villain,

To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,1

Directly to his good ? Divinity of hell !

When devils will their blackest sins put on,

They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,

As 1 do now ; for while this honest fool

Plies Desdemona, to repair his fortunes,

And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,

I'll pour this pestilence2 into his ear, —

That she repeals 3 him for her body's lust ;

And, by how much she strives to do him good,

She shall undo her credit with the Moor.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch ;

And out of her own goodness make the net

That shall enmesh them all. — How now, Roderigo ?

Enter RODERIGO.

Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound
that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
almost spent ; I have been to-night exceedingly well
cudgelled ; and, I think, the issue will be — I shall have
so much experience for my pains ; and so, with no
money at all, and a little more wit, return to Venice.

logo. How poor are they that have not patience !
What wound did ever heal but by degrees ?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft ;
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well ? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou, by that small hurt, hath cashiered Cassio ;
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first, will first be ripe.4

1 Parallel course for course level or even with his design.

2 Pestilence for poison.

3 i. e. recalls him, from the Fr. rappeler.

4 The blossoming to which lago alludes, is the removal of Cassio. There
as good ground for expecting that the fruits of it would soon be ripe.

443 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT JT1

Content thyself awhile. — By the mass,1 'tis morning ;
Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem short. —
Retire thee ; go where thou art billeted.
Away, I say ; thou shalt know more hereafter ;
Nay, get thee gone. [Exit ROD.] Two things are

to be done, —

My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress ;
I'll set her on ;

Myself, the while, to draw 2 the Moor apart,
And bring him jump3 when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife. Ay, that's the way ;
Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Before the Castle.

Enter CASSIO and some Musicians.

Cas. Masters, play here, I will content your pains,
Something that's brief; and bid — good morrow, gen
eral.4 [Music.

Enter Clown.

Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been at
Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus ?
1 Mus. How, sir, how !

Clo. Are these, I pray you, called wind instruments ?
1 Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir.
Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail.

1 The folio reads, In troth ; an alteration made in the playhouse copy
by the interference of the master of the revels.

2 Some modern editions read, " Myself the while ivill draw."

3 i. e. just at the time.

4 It was usual for friends to serenade a new-married couple on the
morning after the celebration of the marriage, or to greet them with a
morning-song to bid them good-morrow.

SC. i.J OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 441J

1 Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir ?

Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind-instrument that I
know. But, masters, here's money for you ; and the
general so likes your music, that he desires you of all
loves,1 to make no more noise with it.

1 Mus. Well, sir, we will not.

Clo. If you have any music that may not be heard,
to't again ; but, as they say, to hear music, the gen
eral does not greatly care.

1 Mus. We have none such, sir.

Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll
away. Go ; vanish into air ; away.

[Exeunt Musicians.

Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest friend ?

Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend ; I hear you.

Cas. Pr'ythee, keep up thy quillet.2 There's a poor
piece of gold for thee ; if the gentlewoman that attends
the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's one Cassio
entreats her a little favor of speech. Wilt thou do this ?

Clo. She is stirring, sir ; if she will stir hither, I shall
seem to notify unto her. [Exit.

Enter IAGO.

Cas. Do, good my friend. — In happy time, lago.

logo. You have not been abed, then ?

Cas. Why, no ; the day had broke
Before we parted. I have made bold, lago,
To send in to your wife. My suit to her
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
Procure me some access.

lago. I'll send her to you presently;

And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free. [Exit.

Cas. I humbly thank you for't. I never knew
A Florentine more kind and honest.3

1 i. e. for love's sake. We have this adjuration again in The Merry
Wives of Windsor.

2 See Hamlet, Act v. Sc. i. p. 371.

3 Cassio was, undoubtedly, a Florentine, as appears by the first scene
of the play, where he is expressly called one. lago was a Venetian,

VOL. vii. 57

450 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

Enter EMILIA.

Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant ; I am sorry
For your displeasure ; 1 but all will soon be well.
The general, and his wife, are talking of it ;
And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies,
That he you hurt, is of great fame in Cyprus,
And great affinity ; and that, in wholesome wisdom,
He might not but refuse you. But, he protests, he loves

you;

And needs no other suitor, but his likings,
To take the saf 'st occasion by the front,2
To bring you in again.

Cas. Yet, I beseech you, —

If you think fit, or that it may be done, —
Give me advantage of some brief discourse
With Desdemona alone.

Emil. 'Pray you, come in ;

I will bestow you where you shall have time
To speak your bosom freely.

Cas. I am much bound to you.3

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Room in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen.

Oth. These letters give, lago, to the pilot ;
And, by him, do my duties to the state.4
That done, I will be walking on the works ;
Repair there to me.

lago. Well, my good lord, I'll do't.

Oth. This fortification, gentlemen, — shall we see't ?

Gent. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.

Cassio means to say, I never experienced more honesty and kindness
even in one of my own countrymen.

1 i. e. the displeasure you have incurred from Othello.

2 This line is wanting in the folio.

3 This speech is omitted in the first quarto.

4 Thus the quarto 1622 ; folio, " to the senate."

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 451

SCENE III. Before the Castle.

Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA.

Des. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.

EmiL Good madam, do ; I know it grieves my

husband,
As if the ease * were his.

Des. O, that's an honest fellow. — Do not doubt,

Cassio,

But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.

Cas. Bounteous madam,

Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's never any thing but your true servant.

Des. O sir,2 I thank you. You do love my lord ; '
You have known him long ; and be you well assured
He shall in strangeness stand no further off
Than in a politic distance.

Cas. Ay, but, lady,

That policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent, and my place supplied,
My general will forget my love and service.

Des. Do not doubt that ; before Emilia here,
I give thee warrant of thy place ; assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article : my lord shall never rest ;
I'll watch him tame,3 and talk him out of patience :
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift ;
I'll intermingle every thing he does
With Cassio's suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die,
Than give thy cause away.

1 Folio reads, " As if the cause were his."

2 Thus the quarto of 1622. The folio reads, " IJcnow't, I thank you.'

3 Hawks and other birds are tamed by keeping them from sleep.

452 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT II

Enter OTHELLO and I A GO, at a distance.

Emil. Madam, here comes

My lord.

Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave.

Des. Why, stay,

And hear me speak.

Cas. Madam, not now ; I am very ill at ease ,
Unfit for mine own purposes.

Des. Well, well,

Do your discretion. [Exit CASSIO.

logo. Ha ! 1 like not that.

Oth. What dost thou say ?

logo. Nothing, my lord ; or if-— I know not what.

Oth. Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife?

logo. Cassio, my lord ? No, sure, I cannot think it,
That he would steal away so guiltylike,
Seeing you coming.

Oth. I do believe 'twas he.

Des. How now, my lord ?
I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.

Oth. Who is't you mean ?

Des. Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
If I have any grace, or power to move you,
His present reconciliation * take ;
For, if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning,2
I have no judgment in an honest face.
I pr'ythee call him back.

Oth. Went he hence now ?

Des. Ay, sooth ; so humbled,
That he hath left part of his grief with me ;
I suffer with him. Good love, call him back.

Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona ; some other time.

Des. But shall't be shortly ?

Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you.

1 i. e. " take his present atonement" or submission. The words were
formerly synonymous.

2 Cunning here signifies knowledge, the ancient sense of the word.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 453

Des. ShalPt be to-night at supper ?

Oth. No, not to-night.

Des. To-morrow dinner, then ?

Oth. I shall not dine at home ;

I meet the captains at the citadel.

Des. Why then, to-morrow night ; or Tuesday morn ;
Or Tuesday noon, or night ; or Wednesday morn. —
I pray thee, name the time ; but let it not
Exceed three days. In faith, he's penitent ;
And yet his trespass, in our common reason,
(Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
Out of their best,1) is not almost a fault
To incur a private check. When shall he come ?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
What you could ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering 2 on. What, Michael Cassio,
That came a wooing with you,3 and so many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part ; to have so much to do
To bring him in ! Trust me, I could do much, —

Oth. 'Pr'ythee, no more. Let him come when he will ;
I will deny thee nothing.

Des. Why, this is not a boon ;

'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm ;
Or sue to you to do peculiar profit
To your own person. Nay, when I have a suit,
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poize4 and difficulty,
And fearful to be granted.

Oth. I will deny thee nothing ;

Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.

Des. Shall I deny you ? no. Farewell, my lord.

Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona ; I will come to thee
straight.

1 The severity of military discipline must not spare the best men of the
army, when their punishment may afford a wholesome exam-pie,

2 So hesitating, in such doubtful suspense.

3 See Act i. Sc. 2. 4 i. e. of weight.

454 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III

Des. Emilia, come. — Be it as jour fancies teach you ;
Whatever you be, I am obedient. [Exit with EMILIA.

Oth. Excellent wretch ! l Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.2

lago. My noble lord,

Oth. What dost thou say, lago ?

lago. Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady,
Know of your love ?

Oth. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask ?

lago. But for a satisfaction of my thought;
No further harm.

Oth. Why of thy thought, lago ?

lago. I did not think he had been acquainted with
her.

Oth. O yes ; and went between us very oft.

logo. Indeed ?

Oth. Indeed ! ay, indeed. — Discern'st thou aught

in that ?
Is he not honest ?

lago. Honest, my lord ?

Oth. Ay, honest.

lago. My lord, for aught I know.

Oth. What dost thou think ?

lago. Think, my lord ?

Oth. Think, my lord !

By Heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought
Too hideous to be shown. — Thou dost mean something;
I heard thee say but now — Thou lik'dst not that,
When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like ?
And, when I told thee, he was of my counsel

1 " The meaning of the word wretch is not generally understood. It ia
now in some parts of England a term of the fondest and softest tenderness.
Jt expresses the utmost degree of amiableness, joined with an idea, which
perhaps all tenderness includes, of feebleness, softness, and want of pro
tection." Sir W. Davenant, in his Cruel Brother, uses the word twice
with the same meaning: — " Excellent wretch ! with a timorous modesty
she stitleth up her utterance."

'J Kre I cease to love thee, the world itself shall be reduced to its
primitive chaos.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 455

In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed?
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.

lago. My lord, you know I love you.

Oth. I think thou dost ;

And — for I know thou art full of love and honesty,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them

breath —

Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more ;
For such things, in a false, disloyal knave,
Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just,
They are close denotements,1 working from the heart,
That passion cannot rule.

lago. For Michael Cassio, —

I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.

Oth. I think so too.

lago. Men should be what they seem ;

Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none!2

Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.

lago. Why then, I think Cassio's an honest man.

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this.
I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate ; and give thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words.

lago. Good my lord, pardon me ;

Though I am bound to every act of duty,
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.3
Utter my thoughts? Why, say, they are vile and
false, —

1 Thus the earliest quarto. The first folio reads — " close dilations ;"
which Johnson says was intended for " cold delations" i. e. occult and
secrd deviations, working involuntarily from the heart. The second folio
reads " cold dilations ;" which Warburton explains " cold keeping1 back
a secret," which men of phlegmatic constitutions, whose arts are not
swayed or governed by their passions, we find can do ; while more san
guine tempers reveal themselves at once, and without reserve/' Upton
says dilations comes from the Latin dilationes, delayings, pauses.

2 I believe the meaning is, " would they might no longer seem or bear
the shape of men." — Johnson.

3 « I am not bound to do that which even slaves are not bound to do."

456 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

As where's that palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not ? Who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keep leets, and law-days, and in session sit
With meditations lawful ?

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, lago,
If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.

lago. I do beseech you, —

Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses; and, oft, my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not, — I entreat you, then,
From one that so imperfectly conjects,1
You'd take no notice ; nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Oth. What dost thou mean ?

lago. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 'tis something,

nothing.

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ;
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

Oth. By Heaven, I'll know thy thought.

lago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand ;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.

Oth. Ha!

lago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy ;

It is the green-eyed monster, which doth make 2

1 i. e. conjectures. Thus the quarto 1622. The folio reads : —

" and of my jealousy

Shapes faults that are not, that your wisdom,
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice."

2 The old copy reads mock. The emendation is Hanmer's. The slight
alteration of the text renders it more clear and poetical.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 457

The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who dotes, jet doubts; suspects, jet strongly loves!

Oth. O, misery !

lago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough ;
But riches, fineless,1 is as poor as winter,
To him that ever fears he shall be poor. —
Good Heaven, the souls of all mj tribe defend
From jealous j !

Oth. Wrhy ! why is this ?

Think'st thou, Pd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions ? No ; to be once in doubt,
Is — once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat
When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufflicate 2 and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference.3 'Tis not to make me jealous.
To say — my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well ;
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous ;
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt ;
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, lago ;
Pll see, before I doubt ; when I doubt, prove ;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this, —
Away at once with love, or jealousy.

lago. I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit ; therefore, as I am bound,

1 i. e. endless, unbounded. Warburton observes that this is finely
expressed — winter producing- no fruits.

2 No instance of this word has elsewhere occurred. " It seems to me
(says Mr. Todd), that all the critics have overlooked the meaning1 of the
passage. Exsufflicates may be traced to the low Latin exsufflare, to spit
down upon, an ancient form of exorcising- ; and, figuratively, to spit_ out
in abhorrence or contempt See Du Cang-e, in v. exsufflare. Exsufflicate
may thus signify contemptible ; and Othello may be supposed to mean,
that he would not change the noble designs, that then employed his
thoughts, for contemptible and despicable surmises." — Johnson's Diet, in v.
exsujfolate.

3 i. e. such as you have mentioned in describing the torments of
jealousy.

VOL. vii. 58

458 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III

Receive it from me. — I speak not jet of proof.
Look to jour wife ; observe her well with Cassio ;
Wear jour eje — thus, not jealous, nor secure.
I would not have jour free and noble nature,
Out of self-bounty,1 be abused ; look to't.
I know our country disposition well ;
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
Thej dare not show their husbands ; their best con
science
Is — not to leave undone, but keep unknown.

Oth. Dost thou saj so ?

lago. She did deceive her father, marrying jou ;
And, when she seemed to shake, and fear jour looks,
She loved them most.

Oth. And so she did.

lago. Why, go to, then ;

She that, so joung, could give out such a seeming,
To seel her father's ejes up, close as oak,2 —
He thought 'twas witchcraft. — But I am much to

blame ;

I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,
For too much loving you.

Oth. I am bound to thee forever.

lago. I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.

Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.

logo. Trust me, I fear it has.

I hope you will consider, what is spoke
Comes from my love ; — but I do see you are moved. —
I am to pray you not to strain my speech
To grosser issues,3 nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.

Oth. I will not.

lago. Should you do so, my lord,

My speech should fall into such vile success 4

1 Self-bounty for inherent generosity.

~ An expression from falconry : to seel a hawk is to sew up his eyelids,
Close as oak means as close as the grain of oak.

'3 Issues for conclusions.

4 Success here means consequence or event. So in Sidney's Arcadia, p.
39, ed. 1G13: — " Straight my heart misgave me some evil success"

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 459

As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy

friend. —
My lord, I see yon are moved.

Oth. No, not much moved ; —

I do not think but Desdemoria's honest.

logo. Long live she so ! and long live you to think so !

Oth. And yet, how nature, erring from itself, —

logo. Ay, there's the point. — As, — to be bold with

you,—

Not to affect many proposed matches,
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree ;
Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends :
Foh ! one may smell, in such, a will 1 most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. —
But pardon me ; I do not, in position,
Distinctly speak of her : though I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And (happily) repent.

Oth. Farewell, farewell.

If more thou dost perceive, let me know more ;
Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, lago.

logo. My lord, I take my leave. [Going.

Oth. Why did I marry ? — This honest creature,

doubtless,
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

lago. My lord, I would I might entreat your honor
To scan this thing no further ; leave it to time ;
And though it be fit that Cassio have his place.
(For, sure, he fills it up with great ability,)
Yet, if you please to hold him off a while,
You shall by that perceive him and his means.2
Note, if your lady strain his entertainment3
With any strong or vehement importunity ;
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,

1 Will for inclination or desire. A rank will is a lustful inclination.

2 « You shall discover whether he thinks his best means, his most power-
ful interest, is by the solicitation of your lady."

3 i. c. press hard his readmission to his pay and office. Entertainment
was the military term for the admission of soldiers.

460 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

(As worthy cause I have to fear — I am,)
And hold her free, I do beseech your honor.

Oth. Fear not my government.1

lago. I once more take my leave. [Exit.

Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit 2
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,3
Though that her jesses4 were my dear heart-strings,
Pd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black ;
And have not those softs parts of conversation
That chamberers have ; 5 — or, for I am declined
Into the vale of years ; — yet that's not much ; —
She's gone ; 1 am abused ; and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O, curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,
For others' uses. Yet 'tis the plague of great ones ,
Prerogatived are they less than the base ;
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death ;
Even then this forked plague 6 is fated to us,
When we do quicken.7 Desdemona comes.

1 Do not distrust my ability to contain my passion.

2 Learned for experienced.

3 Haggard is wild, and therefore libertine. A haggard falcon was a
wild hawk that had preyed for herself long before she was taken ; some
times also called a ramage falcon. Haggard was also a term of reproach,
sometimes applied to a wanton.

4 Jesses are short straps of leather tied about the foot of a hawk, by
which she is held on the fist. — " The falconers always let fly the hawk
against the wind ; if she flies with the wind behind her, she seldom re
turns. If, therefore, a hawk was for any reason to be dismissed, she was
let down the wind, and from that time shifted for herself and preyed at
fortune."

5 Men of intrigue.

6 One of sir John Harington's Epigrams will illustrate this forked
plague.

" Actaeon guiltless unawares espying
Naked Diana bathing in her bowre
Was plagued with homes ; his dogs did him devoure ;
Wherefore take heed, ye that are curious, prying,
With some such forked plague you be not smitten,
And in your foreheads see your faults be written."

7 i. e. when we begin to live.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 461

Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

If she be false, O, then Heaven mocks itself! —
I'll not believe it.

Des. How now, my dear Othello ?

Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.

Oth. I am to blame.

Des. Why is your speech so faint ? Are you not well ?

Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.

Des. 'Faith, that's with watching ; 'twill away again.
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.

Oth. Your napkin 1 is too little ;

[He puts the handkerchief from him, and it drops.
Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.

[Exeunt OTH. and DES.

EmiL I am glad I have found this napkin ;
This was her first remembrance from the Moor.
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Wooed me to steal it ; but she so loves the token,
(For he conjured her she would ever keep it,)
That she reserves it evermore about her,
To kiss, and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,2
And give 't lago.

What he'll do with it, Heaven knows, not I ;
I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

Enter IAGO.

lago. How now ! what do you here alone ?
EmiL Do not you chide ; I have a thing for you.
lago. A thing for me ? — It is a common thing —
EmiL Ha!

1 In the north of England this term for a handkerchief is still used.

2 That is, copied. Her first thoughts are to have a copy made of it
for her husband, and restore the original to Desdemona ; but the sudden
coming in of lago, in a surly humor, makes her alter her resolution to
please him.

462 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

lago. To have a foolish wife.

Emit. O, is that all ? What will you give me now
For that same handkerchief?

lago. What handkerchief?

EmiL What handkerchief?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ;
That which so often you did bid me steal.

lago. Hast stolen it from her ?

EmiL No, 'faith ; she let it drop by negligence ;
And, to the advantage,1 I, being here, took't up.
Look, here it is.

lago. A good wench ; give it me.

EmiL What will you do with it, that you have been

so earnest
To have me filch it ?

lago. Why, what's that to you ?

[Snatching it.

EmiL If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give it me again. Poor lady ! she'll run mad,
When she shall lack it.

lago. Be not you known oft ; 2 I have use for it.
Go, leave me. [Exit EMILIA.

I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air,
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ. This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison.
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons,
Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ;
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of sulphur. — I did say so ; —

Enter OTHELLO.

Look, where he comes ! Not poppy r nor mandragora,3
Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world,

1 That is, I, being opportunely here, took it up.

2 " Seem as if you knew nothing of the matter." The folio reads,
" Be not acknown on't."

3 The mandrake has a soporific quality, and the ancients used it when
they wanted an opiate of the most powerful kind.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 463

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst l yesterday.

Oth. Ha! ha! false to me ?

To me ?

lago. Why, how now, general ? No more of that.

Oth. Avaunt ! be gone ! thou hast set me on the

rack. —

1 swear 'tis better to be much abused,
Than but to know't a little.

lago. How now, my lord ?

Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust ?
I saw it not, thought it not ; it harmed not me ;
I slept the next night well, was free and merry ;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robbed at all.

lago. I am sorry to hear this.

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioneers 2 and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O, now, forever,
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content !
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell !
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner ; and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war !
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit,
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone !

Jago. Is it possible ! — My lord,

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;

[Taking him by the throat.
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,3
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my waked wrath.

1 i. e. possessecPsL

2 Tho vilest of the camp. Pioneers were generally degraded soldiers.

3 The quarto of 1522 reads, " man's eternal soul."

464 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

lago. Is it come to this ?

Oth. Make me to see it ; or (at the least) so prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,
To hang a doubt on ; or, woe upon thy life !

logo. My noble lord, —

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more ; abandon all remorse ; l
On horror's head horrors accumulate ;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed ; —
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

lago. O grace, O Heaven, defend me !

Are you a man ? have you a soul, or sense ?
God be wi'you; take mine office. — O wretched fool,
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice ! —

0 monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest, is not safe. —

1 thank you for this profit ; and, from hence,

I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence.

Oth. Nay, stay. — Thou shouldst be honest.

lago. I should be wise ; for honesty's a fool,
And loses that it works for.

Oth. By the world,

I think my wife be honest, and think she is not ;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not;
I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face. — If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I'll not endure it. — 'Would I were satisfied !

lago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion.
I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied ?

Oth. Would P nay, I will.

lago. And may ; but, how ? how satisfied, my lord ?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on ?
Behold her tupped ?

Oth. Death and damnation ! O !

lago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,

1 i. e. all tenderness of nature, all pity.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 465

To bring them to that prospect. Damn them, then,

If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster,

More than their own ! What then ? how then ?

What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?

It is impossible you should see this,

Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,

As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross

As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,

If imputation, and strong circumstances, —

Which lead directly to the door of truth, —

Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.

Oth. Give me a living 1 reason she's disloyal.

lago. I do not like the office ;
But, sith I am entered in this cause so far, —
Pricked to it by foolish honesty and love, —
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately ;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.

There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs ;
One of this kind is Cassio.
In sleep I heard him say, — Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves !
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry, — 0 sweet creature! and then kiss me hard,
As if he plucked up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips ; then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sighed, and kissed ; and then
Cried, — Cursed fate, that gave thee to the Moor !

Oth. O, monstrous ! monstrous !

lago. Nay, this was but his dream.

Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion ; 2
'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.3

lago. And this may help to thicken other proofs,
That do demonstrate thinly.

1 A living reason is a reason founded on fact and experience.

2 A foregone conclusion is some former experience. Conclusion is used
for experiment or tried in several other places of these plays.

3 The old quarto gives this line to lago, as well as the two which
follow ; in the folio it is given to Othello.

VOL. vii. 59

166 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III

Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces.

Ictgo. Nay, but be wise ; yet we see nothing done ;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, —
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand ?

Oth. I gave her such a one ; 'twas my first gift.

lago. I know not that ; but such a handkerchief

gl am sure it was your wife's) did I to-day
ee Cassio wipe his beard with.

Oth. If it be that,—

lago. If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.

Oth. O that the slave had forty thousand lives;
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge !
Now do I see 'tis true.1 — Look here, lago ;
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.
'Tis gone. —

Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell !
Yield up, O love, thy crown, and hearted throne,2
To tyrannous hate ! swell, bosom, with thy fraught ; 3
For 'tis of aspics' tongues !

logo. Pray, be content.

Oth. O blood, lago, blood !

logo. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may
change.

Oth. Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea,4
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, bnt keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont ;
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
Till that a capable 5 and wide revenge

1 The quarto reads, " Now do I see 'tis tune"

2 The heart on which thou wast enthroned.

3 i. e. swell, hecause the fraught thou art charged with is of poison.

4 From the word Like to marble heaven, inclusively, is not found in the
quarto 1622. Pope thinks that it would be better omitted, as an unnat
ural excursion in this place. Shakspeare probably derived his knowl
edge upon this subject from the second book and ninety-seventh chapter
of Pliny's Natural History, 1001 : — " and the sea Pontus evermore floweth
and runneth out into Propontis ; but the sea never retireth backe againe
within Pontus."

5 Capable scerns to be here used for capacious, comprehensive.

SC. IV.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 467

Swallow them up.— -Now, by yond' marble heaven,
In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels.

I here engage my words.

lago. Do not rise yet. —

[Kneels.

Witness, you ever-burning lights above !
You elements that clip us round about!
Witness, that here lago doth give up
The execution 1 of his wit, hands, heart,
To wronged Othello's service ! Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,2
What bloody work soever.

Oth. I greet thy love,

Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to't.
Within these three days let me hear thee say
That Cassio's not alive.

lago. My friend is dead ; 'tis done, at your request.
But let her live.

Oth. Damn her, lewd minx; O, damn her!

Come, go with me apart ; I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.

lago. I am your own forever. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same.

Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown.

Des. Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant Cassio
lies ?

Clo. I dare not say he lies any where.

Des. Why, man ?

1 The first quarto reads excellency. By execution Shakspeare meant
employment or exercise.

2 Shakspeare always uses remorse for pity or commiseration. " Let
him command whatever bloody business, and in me it shall be an act not
of cruelty but of pity or commiseration to obey him." The quarto reads,
" What bloody business ever."

468 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

Clo. He is a soldier ; and for me to say a soldier
lies, is stabbing.

Des. Go to ; where lodges he ?

Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you
where I lie.1

Des. Can any thing be made of this ?

Clo. I know not where he lodges ; and for me to
devise a lodging, and say — he lies here, or he lies
there, were to lie in my own throat.

Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by
report ?

Clo. I will catechize the world for him ; that is,
make questions, and by them answer.2

Des. .Seek him, bid him come hither : tell him I
have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope all will
be well.

Clo. To do this, is within the compass of man's
wit ; and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Exit.

Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?

Emil. I know not, madam.

Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
Full of cruzadoes.3 And, but my noble Moor
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.

Emil. Is he not jealous ?

Des. Who, he ? I think the sun, where he was

born,
Drew all such humors from him.

Emil. Look, where he comes.

Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio
Be called to him. — How is't with you, my lord?

1 This and the following speech are wanting in the first quarto.

- i. e. and by them, when answered, form my own answer to you.

3 Cruzadoes were of gold, and weighed from two-pennyweights six
grains, to two pennyweights sixteen grains, and differed in value from
six shillings and eight pence to nine shillings. The sovereigns who
struck these coins were Emanuel and his son John of Portugal.

SC. IV.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 469

Enter OTHELLO.

Oth. Well, my good lady. [Aside.'] O, hardness to

dissemble !
Flow do you, Desdemona ?

Des. Well, my good lord.

Oth. Give me your hand ; this hand is moist, my
lady.

Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no sorrow.

Oth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart ;
Hot, hot, and moist. This hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
Much castigation, exercise devout ;
For here's a young and sweating devil here,
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.

Des. You may, indeed, say so ;

For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

Oth. A liberal hand. The hearts, of old, gave

hands ;
But our new heraldry is — hands, not hearts.

Des. I cannot speak of this. Come, now, your
promise.

Oth. What promise, chuck ?

Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with
you.

Oth. I have a salt and sullen l rheum offends me ;
Lend me thy handkerchief.

Des. Here, my lord.

Oth. That which I gave you.

Des. I have it not about me.

Oth. Not?

Des. No, indeed, my lord.

Oth. That is a fault.

That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give :
She was a charmer,2 and could almost read

1 The folio reads "sorry" Rider explains sullen by acerbus (Latin).

2 Charmer, for enchanter, is of common occurrence in Scripture.

470 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it,

'T would make her amiable, and subdue my father

Entirely to her love ; but if she lost it,

Or made a gift of it, my father's eye

Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt

After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me ;

And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,

To give it her. I did so; and take heed oft,

Make it a darling like your precious eye :

To lose or give't away, were such perdition,

As nothing else could match.

Des. Is it possible ?

Oth. 'Tis true ; there's magic in the web of it.
A sibyl, that had numbered in the world
The sun to make two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sewed the work.
The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk ;
And it was dyed in mummy,1 which the skilful
Conserved of maidens' hearts.2

Des. Indeed ! is't true ?

Oth. Most veritable ; therefore look to't well.

Des. Then 'would to Heaven that I had never
seen it.

Oth. Ha! wherefore?

Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash t

Oth. Is't lost ? is't gone ? Speak, is it out of the
way ?

Des. Heaven bless us !

Oth. Say you ?

Des. It is not lost ; but what an if it were ?

Oth. Ha!

Des. I say it is not lost.

Oth. Fetch't ; let me see it.

Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now ;
This is a trick to put me from my suit ;
I pray, let Cassio be received again.

1 The balsamic liquor running- from mummies was formerly celebrated
for its anti-epileptic virtues. This fanciful medicine held a place in the
druggists' shops till lately.

2 The quarto reads "with the skilful conserves" &c.

SC. IV.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 471

Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief; my mind mis
gives.

Des. Come, come ;
You'll never meet a more sufficient man.

Oth. The handkerchief,

Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio.1

Oth. The handkerchief,

Des. A man that, all his time,
Hath founded his good fortune on your love ;
Shared dangers with you ;

Oth. The handkerchief,

Des. In sooth,

You are to blame.

Oth. Away ! [Exit OTHELLO.

Emil. Is not this man jealous?

Des. I ne'er saw this before.
Sure there's some wonder in this handkerchief;
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food ;
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
They belch us. Look you ! Cassio, and my husband.

Enter I AGO and CASSIO.

lago. There is no other way ; 'tis she must do't ;
And, lo, the happiness ! Go, and importune her.

Des. How now, good Cassio ? what's the news with
you ?

Cas. Madam, my former suit. I do beseech you,
That, by your virtuous means, I may again
Exist, and be a member of his love,
Whom I, with all the duty 2 of my heart,
Entirely honor ; I would not be delayed.
If my offence be of such mortal kind,

1 This and the following short speech are omitted in all the ancient
editions but the first quarto. The idiom " talk me of Cassio" is familiar
to the French language.

2 The folio reads " the office of my heart ; " the words were, however
synonymous.

472 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III.

That neither service past, nor present sorrows,
Nor purposed merit in futurity,
Can ransom me into his love again,
But to know so must be my benefit ;
So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
And shut myself up 1 in some other course,
To fortune's alms.

Des. Alas ! thrice gentle Cassio,

My advocation is not now in tune ;
My lord is not my lord ; nor should I know him,
Were he in favor,2 as in humor, altered.
So help me, every spirit sanctified,
As I have spoken for you all my best ;
And stood within the blank 3 of his displeasure,
For my free speech ! You must awhile be patient ;
What I can do, I will ; and more I will,
Than for myself I dare : let that suffice you.

lago. Is my lord angry ?

Emit. He went hence but now,

And, certainly, in strange unquietness.

lago. Can he be angry ? I have seen the cannon,
When it hath blown his ranks into the air;
And, like the devil, from his very arm
Puffed his own brother ; — And can he be angry ?
Something of moment, then. I will go meet him ;
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

Des. I pr'ythee, do so. — Something, sure, of state, —

[Exit I A GO.

Either from Venice ; or some unhatched practice,4
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,—
Hath puddled his clear spirit ; and, in such cases,
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so ;

1 Shut myself up evidently signifies no more than " confine myself."
One of the old quartos reading- "shoot myself up," by mistake, Mason
contends for that reading1. — "To fortune's alms" means waiting patiently
for whatever bounty fortune, or chance, may bestow upon me.

2 i. e. in countenance.

3 To stand within the blank is to stand in the direct range or in the
immediate course ; to have his displeasure directed toward her.

4 Some undeveloped treason.

SC. IV.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 473

For let our finger ache, and it indues 1

Our other healthful members even to that sense

Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods;

Nor of them look for such observances

As fit the bridal.2 — Beshrevv me much, Emilia,

I was (unhandsome warrior3 as I am)

Arraigning his unkindness with my soul ;

But now I find I had suborned the witness,

And he's indicted falsely

Emil. Pray Heaven it be state matters, as you

think ;

And no conception, nor no jealous toy,
Concerning you.

Des. Alas, the day ! I never gave him cause.

Emil. But jealous souls will not be answered so ;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous. 'Tis a monster,
Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's
mind !

Emil. Lady, amen.

Des. I will go seek him. — Cassio, walk here about ;
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.

Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.

[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

Enter BIANCA.

Bian. Save you, friend Cassio !

Cas. What make you from home?

How is it with you, my most fair Bianca ?
Pfaith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.

Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
What ! keep a week away ? seven days and nights ?
Eightscore hours ? and lovers' absent hours,
More tedious than the dial eightscore times ?
O weary reckoning !

1 Indue was used formerly where we now use im^if-

2 i. e. the nuptial feast. 3 Unfair assailant.

VOL,. VII. 60

474 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT III

Cas. Pardon me, Bianca ;

I have this while with leaden thoughts been pressed ;
But I shall, in a more continuate time,
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,

[Giving her DESDEMONA'S handkerchief.
Take me this work out.1

Bian. O Cassio, whence came this ?

This is some token from a newer friend.
To the felt absence now I feel a cause.
Is it come to this ? Well, well.

Cas. Go to ! woman,

Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
From whence you have them. You are jealous, now,
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance.
No, in good troth, Bianca.

Bian. Why, whose is it ?

Cas. I know not, sweet; I found it in my chamber.
1 like the work well ; ere it be demanded,
(As like enough it will,) I'd have it copied.
Take it, and do't ; and leave me for this time.

Bian. Leave you! wherefore?

Cas. I do attend here on the general ;
And think it no addition, nor my wish,
To have him see me wornaned.

Bian. Why, I pray you ? 2

Cas. Not that I love you not.

Bian. But that you do not love me

I pray you, bring me on the way a little ;
And say if I shall see you soon at night.

Cas. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend here ; but I'll see you soon.

Bian. 'Tis very good ; I must be circumstanced.

[Exeunt.

1 i. e. copy this work in another handkerchief.

2 This and the following speech are wanting in the first quarto.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 475

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Before the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO and IAGO.

lago. Will you think so?

Oth. Think so, lago ?

lago. What ?

To kiss in private ?

Oth. An unauthorized kiss.

lago. Or to be naked with her friend abed,
An hour, or more, not meaning any harm ?

Oth. Naked abed, lago, and not mean harm ?
It is hypocrisy against the devil.
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt Heaven.

lago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip ;
But if I give my wife a handkerchief,

Oth. What then?

lago. Why then, 'tis hers, my lord ; and, being

hers,
She may, I think, bestow't on any man.

Oth. She is protectress of her honor too ;
May she give that ?

lago. Her honor is an essence that's not seen ;
They have it very oft, that have it not.
But, for the handkerchief,

Oth. By Heaven, I would most gladly have forgot

it. —

Thou said'st, — O, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
Boding to all,1 — he had my handkerchief.

logo. Ay, what of that ?

Oth. That's not so good, now.

i The raven was thought to be a constant attendant on a house in«
fected with the plague.

476 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV.

logo. What if I had said I had seen him do you

wrong ?

Or heard him saj, — as knaves be such abroad,
Who having, by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
Convinced or supplied l them, cannot choose
But they must blab

Oth. Hath he said any thing ?

lago. He hath, my lord ; but be you well assured,
No more than he'll unswear.

Oth. What hath he said ?

lago. 'Faith, that he did, — I know not what he did.

Oth. What? what?

lago. Lie

Oth. With her ?

lago. With her, on her ; what you will.

Oth. Lie with her ! lie on her ! — We say lie on
her, when they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome.
— Handkerchief, — confessions, — handkerchief. — To
confess, and be hanged for his labor.2 — First to be
hanged, and then to confess : — I tremble at it. Nature
would not invest herself in such shadowing passion,
without some instruction.3 It is not words that shake
me thus. — Pish ! — Noses, ears, and lips. — Is it possi
ble ? — Confess! — Handkerchief! — O devil! —

[Falls in a trance.

lago. Work on,

My medicine, work ! Thus credulous fools are
caught ;

1 For supplied, Theobald would here read suppled, i. e. softened,
subdued. Steevens thinks that supplied is the true reading1, and with a
sense that may be collected from tne following passage in Measuie for
Measure : —

" And did supply thee at the summer-house."

2 What remains of this speech, from to confess, is wanting in the 4to.

3 "The starts and broken reflections in this speech (says \Varburton)
nave something in them very terrible, and show the mind of the speaker
to be in inexpressible agonies."

There is a difference of opinion between the commentators ; some
thinking, Avith Warburton, that the words " Nature would not invest her
self in such shadowing passion, without some instruction" allude to his
own feelings ; others, that they advert to the story about Cassio's dream,
which had been invented and told him by lago.

SC. l.J OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 477

And many worthy and chaste dames, even thus,
All guiltless meet reproach. — What, ho! my lord!

Enter CASSIO.

My lord, 1 say ! Othello ! How now, Cassio ?

Cas. What is the matter ?

lago. My lord is fallen into an epilepsy ;
This is his second fit ; he had one yesterday.

Cas. Rub him about the temples.

lago. No, forbear.

The lethargy must have his quiet course ;
If not, he foams at mouth; and, by and by,
Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs.
Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
He will recover straight ; when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speak with you. —

[Exit CASSIO
How is it, general ? have you not hurt your head ?

Oth. Dost thou mock me ?

lago. I mock you ! no, by Heaven ;

'Would you would bear your fortunes like a man.

Oth. A horned man's a monster, and a beast.

lago. There's many a beast, then, in a populous

And many a civil monster.

Oth. Did he confess it ?

lago. Good sir, be a man ;

Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked,
May draw with you ; there's millions now alive,
That nightly lie in those unproper 1 beds,
Which they dare swear peculiar ; your case is better.
O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure couch,2
And to suppose her chaste ! No, let me know ;
And, knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.

Oth. O, thou art wise ; 'tis certain.

1 Unproper for common.

2 In a couch in which he is lulled into a false security.

478 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV

lago. Stand you awhile apart :

Confine yourself but in a patient list.1
Whilst you were here, ere while mad 2 with your grief,
(A passion most unsuiting such a man,)
Cassio came hither. I shifted him away,
And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy ;
Bade him anon return, and here speak with me;
The which he promised. Do but encave 3 yourself,
And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns,
That dwell in every region of his face ;
For I will make him tell the tale anew, —
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
He hath, and is again to cope your wife.
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience ;
Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen,
And nothing of a man.

Oth. Dost thou hear, lago ?

I will be found most cunning in my patience ;
But (dost thou hear?) most bloody.

logo. That's not amiss ;
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw ?

[OTHELLO withdraws.
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A housewife, that, by selling her desires,
Buys herself bread and clothes. It is a creature
That dotes on Cassio, — as 'tis the strumpet's plague,
To beguile many, and be beguiled by one ;
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
From the excess of laughter ! — Here he comes. —

Re-enter CASSIO.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad ;
And his unbookish4 jealousy must construe
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behavior
Quite in the wrong. — How do you now, lieutenant ?

1 i. e. within the bounds of patience.

2 The folio reads •' overwhelmed with your grief."

3 Hide yourself in a private place.

4 Unbookish for ignorant.

SC. I ] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 479

Cas. The worser, that you give me the addition.
Whose want even kills me.

lago. Ply Desdernona well, and you are sure oPt.
Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power,

[Speaking lower.
How quickly should you speed ?

Cas. Alas, poor caitiff!

Oth. Look, how he laughs already ! [Aside.

lago. I never knew a woman love man so.

Cas. Alas, poor rogue ! I think, i'faith, she loves me.

Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.

[Aside.

lago. Do you hear, Cassio ?

Oth. Now he importunes him

To tell it o'er. Go to ; well said, well said. [ Aside.

lago. She gives it out that you shall marry her.
Do you intend it ?

Cas. Ha, ha, ha !

Oth. Do you triumph, Roman ? 1 do you triumph ?

[Aside

Cas. 1 marry her ! — what ? a customer ! 2 I pr'ythee,
bear some charity to my wit ; do not think it so un
wholesome. Ha, ha, ha !

Oth. So, so, so, so. They laugh that win. [Aside.

lago. 'Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry
her.

Cas. Pr'ythee, say true.

lago. I am a very villain else.

Oth. Have you scored me?3 Well. [Aside.

Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out ; she is
persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and
flattery, not out of my promise.

Oth. lago beckons me ; now he begins the story.

[Aside.

1 Othello calls him Roman ironically.

2 A common woman.

3 i. e. " have you numbered my daysl" To score is to tale or tell, to
number, or mark as on a tally. But perhaps it only means, "have you
marked me ? " as beasts are scorn/ or marked when purchased for slaugh
ter. The old quarto reads " have you stored me ? "

480 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV.

C&s. She was here even now; she haunts me in
every place. I was, the other day, talking on the sea-
bank with certain Venetians ; and thither comes this
bawble ; by this hand,1 she falls thus about my
neck ;

Oth. Crying, O dear Cassio ! as it were : his ges
ture imports it. [Aside.

Cas. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me ; so
hales, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha ! —

Oth. Now he tells how she plucked him to my
chamber. O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog
I shall throw it to. [Aside.

Cas. Well, I must leave her company.

lago. Before me ! look where she comes.

Enter BIANCA.

Cas. 'Tis such another fitchew ! 2 marry, a perfumed
one. — What do you mean by this haunting of me ?

Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt you ! What
did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me
even now ? I was a fine fool to take it. I must take
out the whole work ? — A likely piece of work that you
should find it in your chamber, and not know who left
it there ! This is some minx's token, and I must take
out the work ! There, — give it your hobby-horse.
Wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't.

Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca ? how now ?
how now ?

Oth. By Heaven, that should be my handkerchief.

[Aside.

Bian. An you'll come to supper to-night, you may ;
an you will riot, come when you are next prepared for.

[Exit.

lago. After her, after her.

Cas. 'Faith, I must ; she'll rail in the street else.

i The folio omits " by this hand ; " and reads " thither comes the bauble
and falls me thus," &c.

a Shakspeare has alluded to the lust of this animal in King Lear. lie
tells lago that Bianca is as lewd, but of a better scent.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 481

lago. Will you sup there ?

Cas. 'Faith, I intend so.

logo. Well, I may chance to see you ; for I would
very lain speak with you.

Cas. Pr'ythee, come ; will you ?

logo. Go to ; say no more. [Exit CASSIO.

Oth. How shall I murder him, lago ?

lago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice ?

Oth. O lago !

lago. And did you see the handkerchief ?

Oth. Was that mine ?

lago. Yours, by this hand ; and to see how he
prizes the foolish woman, your wife ! she gave it him,
and he hath given it his whore.

Oth. I would have him nine years a killing. — A fine
woman ! a fair woman ! a sweet woman !

lago. Nay, you must forget that.

Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to
night ; for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned
to stone ; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the
world hath not a sweeter creature ; she might lie by
an emperor's side, and command him tasks.

lago. Nay, that's not your way.

Oth. Hang her ! I do but say what she is. — So
delicate with her needle ! — An admirable musician ! O,
she will sin"; the savageness out of a bear ! — Of so high

o

and plenteous wit and invention ! —

lago. She is the worse for all this.

Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times. — And then,
of so gentle a condition !

logo. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay, that's certain. But yet the pity of it,
Tago ! — O lago, the pity of it, lago !

logo. If you are so fond over her inquity, give hef
patent to offend ; for, if it touch not you, it comes near
nobody.

Oth. I will chop her into messes! — Cuckold me !

logo. O, 'tis foul in her.

Oth. With mine officer!

lago. That's fouler.

VOL. VII. 61

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV.

Oth. Get me some poison, lago, this night. — I'll
not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty un-
provide my mind again ; this night, lago.

logo. Do it not with poison ; strangle her in her bed,
even the bed she hath contaminated.

Oth. Good, good ; the justice of it pleases ; very
good.

lago. And, for Cassio, — let me be his undertaker.
You shall hear more by midnight. [A trumpet within.

Oth. Excellent good. — What trumpet is that same ?

logo. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico,
Come from the duke ; and, see, your wife is with him.

Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants.

Lod. 'Save you, worthy general ! *

Oth. With all my heart, sir.

Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

[ Gives him a packet.

Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

[Opens the packet, and reads.

Des. And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico ?

logo. I am very glad to see you, seignior ;
Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod. I thank you. How does lieutenant Cassio ?

logo. Lives, sir.

Des. Cousin, there's fallen between him and my lord
An unkind breach ; but you shall make all well.

Oth. Are you sure of that ?

Des. My lord ?

Oth. This fail you not to do, as you will —

[Reads.

Lod. He did not call ; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt thy lord and Cassio ?

Des. A most unhappy one ; I would do much
To atone9 them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

Oth. Fire and brimstone !

1 The quarto reads, " God save the worthy general."

2 i. e. make them one, reconcile them.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 483

Des. My lord ?

Oth. Are you wise ?

Des. What, is he angry?

Lod. May be, the letter moved him ;

For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.

Des. By my troth, I am glad on't.

Oth. Indeed !

Des My lord ?

Oth. I am glad to see you mad.

Des. How, sweet Othello ?

Oth. Devil ! [Striking her.

Des. I have not deserved this.

Lod. My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw it. 'Tis very much ;
Make her amends, she weeps.

Oth. O devil, devil !

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.1 —
Out of my sight !

Des. I will not stay to offend you.

[Going.

Lod. Truly, an obedient lady. —
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

Oth. Mistress,

Des. My lord ?

Oth. What would you with her, sir ?

Lod. Who, I, my lord ?

Oth. Ay; you did wish that I would make her

turn ;

Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep ;
And she's obedient, as you say, — obedient, —
Very obedient. — Proceed you in your tears. —
Concerning this, sir, — O, well-painted passion !

i " If women's tears could impregnate the earth." Shakspeare here
alludes to the fabulous accounts which make the crocodile the most
deceitful of animals, whose tears are proverbially fallacious. " It is writ
ten that he will weep over a man's head when he hath devoured the body
and will then eat up the head too."

To fall in this passage, is a verb active.

484 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV

I am commanded home.1 — Get you away ;

I'll send for you anon. — Sir, I obey the mandate,

And will return to Venice. — Hence, avaunt!

[Exit DESDEMONA.

Cassio shall have my place. And, — sir, — to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together.
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats and mon
keys ! [Exit

Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
Call — all-in-all sufficient ? — This the noble nature
Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid virtue
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze, nor pierce ?

lago. He is much changed.

Lod. Are his wits safe ? is he not light of brain ?

fago. He is that he is ; I may not breathe my

censure.

What he might be, — if what he might, he is not, —
I would to Heaven he were.

Lod. What, strike his wife !

lago. 'Faith, that was not so well. Yet 'would I

knew
That stroke would prove the worst.

Lod. Is it his use ?

Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new-create this fault ?

lago. Alas, alas !

It is not honesty in me to speak

What I have seen and known. You shall observe him ,
And his own courses will denote him so,
That I may save my speech. Do but go after,
And mark how he continues.

Lod. I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

[Exeunt.

1 The quarto reads, " I am commanded here "

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 485

SCENE II.1 A Room in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA.

Oth. You have seen nothing, then ?

Emil. Nor ever heard ; nor ever did suspect.

Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

Emil. But then I saw no harm ; and then I heard
Each syllable that breath made up between them.

Oth. What, did they never whisper ?

Emil. Never, my lord.

Oth. Nor send you out o' the way ?

Emil. Never.

Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor
nothing ?

Emil. Never, my lord.

Oth. That's strange.

Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,
Remove your thought ; it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch hath put this in your head,
Let Heaven requite it with the serpent's curse !
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy ; the purest of their wives2
Is foul as slander.

Oth. Bid her come hither; — go. —

[Exit EMILIA.

She says enough ; — yet she's a simple bawd
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,

1 There are great difficulties in ascertaining the place of this scene.
What Othello says in an early part of it to Emilia — " Leave procreants
alone, and shut the door," — and his subsequent address to her as he goes
out, decisively point out a room in Othello's castle as the place of the
scene ; and compel us to place the interlocutors there, however inconsis
tent with Roderigo's entry, and Tago's address to Desdemona, "Go in
and weep not." The truth is, that our Poet and his audience, in this
instance, as in many others, were content, from want of scenery, to con
sider the very same spot, at one and the same time, as the outside and
inside of a house.

2 The quarto reads " of her sex."

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV

A closet-lock-and-key of villanous secrets :

And yet she'll kneel, and pray ; I have seen her do't.

Re-enter EMILIA, with DESDEMONA.

Des. My lord, what is your will ?

Oth. 'Pray, chuck, come hither.

Des. What is your pleasure ?

Oth. Let me see your eyes ;

Look in my face.

Des. What horrible fancy's this ?

Oth. Some of your function, mistress; [To EMILIA.
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door ;
Cough, or cry — Hem, if any body come.
Your mystery, your mystery ; — nay, despatch.

[Exit EMILIA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech

import ?

I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.1

Oth. Why, what art thou ?

Des. Your wife, my lord ; your true

And loyal wife.

Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself;

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
Should fear to seize thee : therefore be double-damned,
Swear — thou art honest.

Des. Heaven doth truly know it.

Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

Des. To whom, my lord? with whom ? How am I
false ?

Oth. O Desdemona ! — away ! away ! away !

Des. Alas, the heavy day ! — Why do you weep ?
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord?
If, haply, you my father do suspect,
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me ; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.

1 This line is not in the folio.

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 487

Oth. Had it pleased Heaven

To try me with affliction ; had he rained
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head ;
Steeped me in poverty to the very lips ;
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ;'
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn 1
To point his slow, unmoving finger at, —
O! O!

Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well :
But there, where I have garnered up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life ;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence,
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
To knot and gender in ! — Turn thy complexion there !
Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubim ;
Ay, there, look grim as hell ! 2

Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

Oth. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,3
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the sense aches at thee. — 'Would thou hadst
ne'er been born !

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ?

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,

1 Howe reads " the hand of scorn," a satisfactory emendation ; and it is
to be wished that there was sufficient authority to admit it into the text.
Steevens thinks the old reading right, saying, that Othello takes his idea
from a clock.

The folio reads and moving instead of unmoving ; but the reading
adopted in the text is probably correct, and the meaning seems to be, that
the finger of scorn never moves from, or ceases to point at its object.

2 " At such an object do thou, patience, thyself change color ; at this do
thou, even thou, rosy cherub as thou art, look grim as hell" The old
copies have, "I here look grim as hell." /.was written for a?/ ; and here
was an evident error of the press for there. Theobald made the cor
rection.

3 The quarto reads : —

" O thou black weed, why art so lovely fair ?
Thou smell'st so sweet, that the sense aches at thee."

488 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.

Made to write whore upon ? What committed ! ]
Committed ! — O, thou public commoner !
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. — What committed !
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
Is hushed within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it. What committed ! —
Impudent strumpet !

Des. By Heaven, you do me wrong.

Oth. Are not you a strumpet ?

Des. No, as I am a Christian.

If to preserve this vessel for my lord,2
From any other foul, unlawful touch,
Be — not to be a strumpet, I am none.

Oth. What, not a whore ?

Des. No, as I shall be saved.

Oth. Is it possible ?

Des. O Heaven, forgive us !

Oth. I cry you mercy, then

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. — You, mistress,

Re-enter EMILIA.

That have the office opposite to saint Peter,

And keep the gate of hell; you ! you ! ay, you !

We have done our course; there's money for your

pains ;
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel. [Exit.

Emit. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive ?
How do you, madam ? how do you, my good lady ?

Des. 'Faith, half asleep.

Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my
lord ?

Des. With who ?

1 This and the three following lines are not in the first quarto.
~ This expression is from Sacred Writ: — "To possess his vessel in
sanctification."

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 489

Emil. Why, with my lord, madam.

Des. Who is thy lord ? 1

Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady.

Des. I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia ;
I cannot weep ; nor answer I have none,
But what should go by water. 'Pr'ythee, to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding-sheets, — remember ; —
And call thy husband hither.

Emil. Here is a change indeed ! [Exit.

Des. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
How have I been behaved, that he might stick
The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse ? 2

Re-enter EMILIA, with IAGO.

logo. What is your pleasure, madam ? How is it
with you ?

Des. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young

babes,

Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks.
He might have chid me so ; for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.

lago. What's the matter, lady ?

Emil. Alas, lago, my lord hath so bewhored her,
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.

Des. Am I that name, lago ?

lago. What name, fair lady ?

Des. Such as she says my lord did say I was.

Emil. He called her whore ; a beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.3

lago. Why did he so ?

Des. I do not know ; I am sure, I am none such.

lago. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas, the day !

Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches,

1 This and the following speecli are not in the quarto.

2 This is the reading- of the quarto ; Avhich Dr. Johnson thought prefer
able to the reading of the folio — on my least misuse.

3 A callet is a trull, a drab. The word is of great antiquity in the
English language.

VOL. vii. 62

490 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV.

Her father and her country, and her friends,

To be called — whore ? would it not make one weep ?

Des. It is mj wretched fortune.

lago. Beshrew him for it '

How comes this trick upon him ?

Des. Nay, Heaven doth know.

Emit. I will be hanged, if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devised this slander. I'll be hanged else.

O

lago. Fie, there is no such man ; it is impossible.
Des. If any such there be, Heaven pardon him !
Emit. A halter pardon him ! and hell gnaw his

bones !
Why should he call her — whore ? who keeps her

company ?

What place ? what time ? what form ? what likelihood ?
The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave,1
Some base, notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. —

0 Heaven, that such companions2 thou'dst unfold;
And put in every honest hand a whip,

To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Even from the east to the west !

lago. Speak within door.3

Emil. O, fie upon him ! some such squire he was,
That turned your wit the seamy side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

lago. You are a fool ; go to.

Des. O good lago,

What shall I do to win my lord again ?
Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of heaven,

1 know not how I lost him. Here I kneel.4 —
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse of thought,5 or actual deed ;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,

1 The quarto has, " some outrageous knave."

2 Companion was a term of contempt.

3 " Do not clamor so as to be heard beyond the house."

4 The quarto omits the rest of this speech.

•> " Discourse of thought " is the " discursive range of thought." Pope
changed it to " discourse or thought."

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 491

Delighted them in any other form ;

Or that I do not jet, and ever did,

And ever will, — though he do shake me off

To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly,

Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much ;

And his unkindness may defeat my life,

But never taint my love. I cannot say, whore ;

It does abhor me, now I speak the word ;

To do the act that might the addition earn,

Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.

lago. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humor.
The business of the state does him offence,
And he does chide with you.1

Des. If 'twere no other,—

lago. It is but so, I warrant you. [Trumpets.

Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
And the great messengers of Venice stay.2
Go in, and weep not ; all things shall be well.

[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

Enter RODERIGO.

How now, Roderigo ?

Rod. I do not find that thou deal'st justly with me.

lago. What in the contrary ?

Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some device,
lago ; and rather (as it seems to me now) keep'st
from me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the
least advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer
endure it ; nor am I yet persuaded, to put up in peace
what already I have foolishly suffered.

lago. Will you hear me, Roderigo ?

Rod. 'Faith, I have heard too much ; for your words
and performances are no kin together.

lago. You charge me most unjustly.

Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself
out of my means. The jewels you have had from me,

1 This was the phraseology of the time.

2 Thus the quarto. The folio reads :—

" The messengers of Venice stay the meat"

492 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV

to deliver to Desdemona, would half have corrupted a
votarist. You have told me she has received them,
and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden
respect and acquittance ; l but I find none.

lago. Well ; go to ; very well.

Rod. Very well ! go to ! I cannot go to, man ; nor
'tis not very well. By this hand, I say, it is very
scurvy ; and begin to find myself fobbed in it.

lago. Very well.

Rod. I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make
myself known to Desdemona. If she will return me
my jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent my
unlawful solicitation ; if not, assure yourself, I will
seek satisfaction of you.

logo. You have said now.

Rod. Ay, and I have said nothing but what I
protest intendment of doing.

lago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee ; and
even, from this instant, do build on thee a better
opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo.
Thou hast taken against me a most just exception ;.
but yet I protest I have dealt most directly in thy affair.

Rod. It hath not appeared.

logo. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared ; and
your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But,
Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee, indeed, which
I have greater reason to believe now than ever, — I
mean, purpose, courage, and valor, — this night show
it. If thou the next night following enjoyest not Des
demona, take me from this world with treachery, and
devise engines for my life.2

Rod. Well, what is it? is it within reason, and
compass ?

lago. Sir, there is especial commission come from
Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place.

Rod. Is that true ? why, then Othello and Desde
mona return again to Venice.

lago. O, no ; he goes into Mauritania, and takes

1 The folio reads acquaintance. Acquittance is requital.

2 To devise engines seems to mean to contrive instruments of torture, &c.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 493

away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode
be lingered here by some accident ; wherein none can
be so determinate, as the removing of Cassio.

Rod. How do you mean — removing of him ? —

lago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's
place ; knocking out his brains.

Rod. And that you would have me do ?

lago. Ay ; if you dare do yourself a profit, and a
right. He sups to-night with a harlot,1 and thither
will I go to him ; — he knows not yet of his honorable
fortune. If you will watch his going thence, (which
I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,) you
may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to
second your attempt, and he shall fall between us.
Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me ;
I will show you such a necessity in his death, that you
shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now
high supper-time, and the night grows to waste : 3
about it.

Rod. I will hear further reason for this.

lago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Another Room in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and
Attendants.

Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no

further.

Oth. O, pardon me ; 'twill do me good to walk.
Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your

ladyship.

Des. Your honor is most welcome.
Oth. Will you walk, sir ?—

O, — Desdemona,

Des. My lord ?

1 The folio reads «a harlotry." Shakspeare has the expression, « a
peevish, self-willed harlotry" in two other plays.

2 i. e. the night is wasting apace.

494 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV

Oth. Get you to bed on the instant, I will be
returned forthwith. Dismiss jour attendant there ;
look, it be done.

Des. I will, my lord.

[Exeunt OTH., LOD., and Attendants.

Emil. How goes it now ? he looks gentler than
he did.

Des. He says he will return incontinent.
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.

Emil. Dismiss me !

Des. It was his bidding ; therefore, good Emilia,
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.

Emil. I would you had never seen him !

Des. So would not I ; my love doth so approve him,
That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns, —
Pr'ythee, unpin me, — have grace and favor in them.

Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the
bed.

Des. All's one. — Good father ! 1 how foolish are our

minds ! —

If I do die before thee, 'pr'ythee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.

Emil. Come, come, you talk.

Des. My mother had a maid called — Barbara ;
She was in love ; and he she loved, proved mad,2
And did forsake her. She had a song of — willow ;
An old thing 'twas, but it expressed her fortune,
And she died singing it. That song, to-night,
Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do,3
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara. 'Pr'ythee, despatch.

1 The quarto of 1022 reads " g

2 Mad must here be accepted as meaning wild, unruly, jic.kle.

3 From / have much to do, to Aa?/, that's not next, was inserted after
the first edition in quarto, 1622, as was, likewise, the remaining part of the
song. Desdemona means to say — I have much ado to do any thing but
hang my head, &c. The ballad, in two parts, printed from the original,
in black letter, in the Pepys collection, is to be found in Dr. Percy's
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. p. 192.

SC. III.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 495

EmiL Shall I go fetch your night-gown ?

Des. No; unpin me here. —

This Lodovico is a proper man.

EmiL A very handsome man.

Des. And he speaks well

EmiL I know a lady in Venice, who would have
walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his
nether lip.

I.

Des. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree.
Sing all a green willow ; [Singing.

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow :

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmured her

moans ;
Sing willow, &,c.

Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones;

Lay by these :

Sing willow, willow, willow ;
Pr'ythee, hie thee ; he'll come anon. —

Sing all a green willow must be my garland.

II.

Let nobody blame him ; his scorn I approve, —

Nay, that's not next — hark ! who is it that knocks ?
EmiL It is the wind.

Des. / called my love, false love ; but what said he

then f

Sing willow, &c.
If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men.1

So, get thee gone : good night. Mine eyes do itch ;
Doth that bode weeping ?

EmiL 'Tis neither here nor there.

i This couplet is not in the original ballad.

496 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT IV.

Des. I have heard it said so.1 — O, these men, these

men ! —

Dost thou in conscience think, — tell me, Emilia, —
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind ?

Emil. There be some such, no question.

Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world ?

Emil. Why, would not you ?

Des. No, by this heavenly light !

Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light ;
I might do't as well i' the dark.

Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world ?

Emil. The world is a huge thing. 'Tis a great price
For a small vice.

Des. Good troth, I think thou wouldst not.

Emil. By my troth, 1 think I should ; and undo't,
when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing
for a joint-ring ; 2 nor for measures of lawn ; nor for
gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition :
but, for the whole world, — why, who would not make
her husband a cuckold, to make him a monarch ? I
should venture purgatory for't.

Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for
the whole world.

Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i1 the world ;
and, having the world for your labor, 'tis a wrong in
your own world, and you might quickly make it right.

Des. I do not think there is any such woman.

Emil. Yes, a dozen ; and as many
To the vantage,3 as would store the world they played

for.

But I do think, it is their husbands' faults
If wives do fall. Say, that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps ;
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us ; or, say they strike us,

1 This, as well as the following speech, is omitted in the first quarto.

2 A joint-ring was anciently a common token among lovers.

3 i. e. to boot, over and above. The remaining part of this speech is
omitted in the first quarto.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 497

Or scant our former having1 in despite :
Why, we have galls ; and, though we have some grace,
Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know
Their wives have sense 2 like them : they see, and smell,
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do,
When they change us for others ? Is it sport ?
I think it is ; and doth affection breed it ?
I think it doth ; is't frailty, that thus errs ?
It is so too ; and have not we affections ?
Desires for sport ? and frailty, as men have ?
Then let them use us well ; else, let them know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us to.3

Des. Good night, good night; Heaven me such

usage 4 send,
Not to pick bad from bad ; but, by bad, mend !

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Street.

Enter IAGO and RODERIGO.

lago. Here, stand behind this bulk ; straight will he

come ;

Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.
Quick, quick ; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow.
It makes us, or it mars us ; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.

Rod. Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in't.
lago. Here, at thy hand , be bold, and take thy
sword. [Retires to a little distance.

1 Our former allowance of expense.

2 Sense is here used, as in Hamlet, for sensation, or sensual appetites.

3 The old copy reads, " their ills instruct us so."

4 « Such uses " is the reading of the folio ; but the first quarto has
" such usage"

VOL. vii. 63

498 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V.

Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed ;
And jet he has given me satisfying reasons.
'Tis but a man gone ; — forth, my sword ; he dies.

[Goes to his stand.

lago. I have rubbed this young quat almost to the

sense,1

And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,

Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,

Every way makes my gain.2 Live Roderigo,

He calls me to a restitution large

Of gold and jewels that I bobbed 3 from him,

As gifts to Desdemona ;

It must not be ; if Cassio do remain,

He hath a daily beauty in his life,

That makes me ugly ; and, besides, the Moor

May unfold me to him ; there stand I in much peril :

No, he must die. — But so, I hear him coming.

Enter CASSIO.

Rod. I know his gait ; 'tis he ; — villain, thou diest.
[Rushes from his post, and makes a pass at

CASSIO.

Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou think'st ;
I will make proof of thine.

[Draws, and wounds RODERIGO.
Rod. O, I am slain !

[I AGO rushes from his post, cuts CASSIO

behind in the leg,4 and exit.

Cas. I am maimed forever : — Help, ho ! murder !
murder ! [Falls.

1 A quat, in the midland counties, is still used tor a pimple, which by
rubbing is made to smart, or rubbed to sense. To rub to the sense is to
nib to the quick.

2 The quartos read "my game"

3 "That I fooled him out of." To bob is to cheat or deceive with a
false tale.

4 lago maims Cassio in the leg, in consequence of what he had just
heard him say ; from which he supposed that his body was defended by
some secret armor.

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 499

Enter OTHELLO, at a distance.

Oth. The voice of Cassio. — lago keeps his word.

Rod. O, villain that I am !

Oth. Hark ! 'Tis even so.

Cas. O, help ! ho ! light ! a surgeon !

Oth. 'Tis he ; — O brave lago, honest, and just.
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong !
Thou teachest me, — minion, your dear lies dead
And your fate hies l apace. — Strumpet, I come.
Forth 2 of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted ;
Thy bed, lust-stained, shall with lust's blood be spotted.

[Exit OTHELLO.

Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO, at a distance.

Cas. What, ho ! no watch ! no passage ? 3 murder !
murder !

Gra. 'Tis some mischance ; the cry is very direful.

Cas. O, help !

Lod. Hark !

Rod. O wretched villain !

Lod. Two or three groans ; — it is a heavy 4 night.
These may be counterfeits ; let's think't unsafe
To come into the cry without more help.

Rod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.

Enter IAGO, with a light.

Lod. Hark!

Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and

weapons.
lago. Who's there ? whose noise is this, that cries

on murder ? 5

1 Thus the first quarto. The second quarto and the folio read « And
your unblestfate hies"

2 The folio reads "/or of; " the quarto reads forth of, i. e. out of.

3 No passengers ? nobody going by ?

4 i. e. a thick, cloudy night.

5 This phrase, to cry on, for cry out on, has already occurred in Hamle.
Act v. Sc. 2.

500 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V

Lod. We do not know.

logo. Did you not hear a cry ?

Cas. Here, here ; for Heaven's sake, help me.

lago. What's the matter ?

Gra. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.

Lod. The same, indeed ; a very valiant fellow.

lago. What are you here that cry so grievously ?

Cas. lago ! O, I am spoiled, undone by villains !
Give me some help.

lago. O me, lieutenant ! what villains have done this ?

Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.

lago, O treacherous villains ! —

£5

What are you there ? come in, and give some help.

[To LODOVICO and GRATIANO.

Rod. O, help me here !

Cas. That's one of them.

lago. O murderous slave ! O villain !

[!AGO stabs RODERIGO.

Rod. O damned lago ! O inhuman dog !
O! O! O!

lago. Kill men i' the dark ! — Where be these bloody

thieves ?

How silent is this town ! — Ho ! murder ! murder !
What may you be ? are you of good, or evil ?

Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us.

lago. Seignior Lodovico !

Lod. He, sir.

lago. I cry you mercy ; here's Cassio hurt

By villains.

Gra. Cassio ?

lago. How is it, brother ?

Cas. My leg is cut in two.

lago. Marry, Heaven forbid ! —

Light, gentlemen ; I'll bind it with my shirt.

Enter BIANCA.

Bian. What is the matter, ho ? who is't that cried ?
lago. Who is't that cried ?

SC. I.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 501

Bian. O my dear Cassio ! my sweet Cassio !
O Cassio ! Cassio ! Cassio !

logo. O notable strumpet ! — Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you ?

Cas. No.

Gra. I am sorry to find you thus. I have been to
seek you.

logo. Lend me a garter.1 So. — O, for a chair,
To bear him easily hence !

Bian. Alas, he faints : — O Cassio ! Cassio !
Cassio !

lago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury.2
Patience awhile, good Cassio. — Come, come ;
Lend me a light. — Know we this face, or no ?
Alas ! my friend, and my dear countryman,3
Roderigo ? No : — Yes, sure ; O heaven ! Roderigo.

Gra. What, of Venice ?

lago. Even he, sir ; did you know him ?

Gra. Know him ? ay.

lago. Seignior Gratiano ? I cry you gentle pardon ;
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That so neglected you.

Gra. I am glad to see you.

lago. How do you, Cassio ? — O, a chair, a chair !

Gra. Roderigo !

lago. He, he, 'tis he. — O, that's well said ; — the
chair. — [A chair brought in.

Some good man bear him carefully from hence ;
I'll fetch the general's surgeon. — For you, mistress,

[TkBlANCA.

Save you your labor. He that lies slain here, Cassio,
Was my dear friend. What malice was between

you?
Cas. None in the world ; nor do I know the man.

1 This speech is not in the first quarto.

2 Thus the folio. The quarto 1(^2 reads, to bear a part in this.

3 This passage incontestably proves that lago was meant for a
Venetian.

502 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V

logo. [To BIAN.] What, look you pale? — O, bear
him out o'the air. —

[CASSIO and ROD. are borne off.

Stay you, good gentlemen.1 — Look you pale, mistress ?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye ? 2
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. —
Behold her well ; I pray you, look upon her ;
Do you see, gentlemen ? Nay, guiltiness will speak,
Though tongues were out of use.

Enter EMILIA.

Emil. 'Las, what's the matter ; what's the matter,
husband ?

logo. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark,
By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scaped ;
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

Emil. Alas, good gentleman ! alas, good Cassio !

logo. This is the fruit of whoring. — 'Pr'ythee, Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supped to-night.3 —
What, do you shake at that ?

Bian. He supped at my house ; but I therefore
shake not.

lago. O, did he so ? I charge you, go with me.

Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet !

Bian. I am no strumpet ; but of life as honest,
As you that thus abuse me.

Emil. As I ? foh ! fie upon thee !

1 Thus the folio. The quarto reads, Stay you, good gentlewoman.
It seems probable that lago addresses Lodovico and Gratiano, who are
going away to assist Cassio, and to see him properly taken care of. The
subsequent appeal and address of lago to them appears to confirm this
supposition. Malone follows the quarto.

2 The quarto, instead of gastmss, reads jcstures ; and instead of stare,
in the next line, has stirre.

3 In the second scene of the preceding act, lago informs Roderigo that
Cassio was to sup with Bianca ; that he would go to him there, and bring
him away between twelve and one. Indeed, Cassio had himself told lago
that he would sup with Bianca, and lago had promised to meet him at her
house. We must suppose, therefore, that this consummate villain thought
it more secure to waylay him, as we find he does, without actually joining
him at supper-time.

SC. II.j OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 503

lago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio

dressed. —

Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale. —
Emilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what has happened. —
Will you go on, I pray ?— -This is the night, [ Aside.
That either makes me, or foredoes l me quite.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Bedchamber: DESDEMONA in bed
asleep. A light burning.

Enter OTHELLO.

Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! 2 —
It is the cause. — Yet I'll not shed her blood,
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.

[Takes off his sword.

Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then — Put out the light!3
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me ; — but once put out thine,4

1 Toforedo is to undo, to ruin, to destroy.

2 Othello, full of horror at the cruel action which he is about to perpe
trate, seems at this instant to be seeking his justification, from represent
ing to himself the cause, i. e. the greatness of the provocation he had
received.

3 The old copy gives this line thus : —

"Put out the light, and then put out the light."

The present regulation of the passage, by which so much beauty and
spirit is added to it, was proposed by Mr. Upton, but it is to be found in
Ayres's Life of Pope ; it may, therefore, have originated with Warburton,
who thus explains it: — "The meaning is, I wxill put out the light, and
then proceed to the execution of my purpose. But the expression of
putting out the light bringing to mind the effects of the extinction of the
light of life, he breaks short, and questions himself about the effects of
this metaphorical extinction, introduced by a repetition of his first words,
as much as to say, — But hold, let me first weigh the reflection which this
expression naturally excites."

4 Thus the quarto. The folio reads, put out thy light. Steevens
adopted the present reading for the sake of the measure, and to avoid the
useless repetition of the word light.

504 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT Y.

Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume.1 When I have plucked

thy rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again ;
It needs must wither. — I'll smell it on the tree. —

[Kissing her.

0 balmy breath, that dost almost persuade

Justice to break her sword ! — One more, one more. —
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after. — One more, and this the last ;
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears. This sorrow's heavenly ;
It strikes where it doth love. — She wakes —

Des. Who's there ? Othello ?

Oth. Ay, Desdemona.

Des. Will you come to bed, my lord ?

Oth. Have you prayed to-night, Desdemona ?

Des. Ay, my lord

Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime,
Unreconciled as yet to Heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.

Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that ?

Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.

1 would not kill thy unprepared spirit ;

No,— Heaven forfend ! — I would not kill thy soul.

Des. Talk you of killing ?

Oth. Ay, I do.

Des. Then, Heaven

Have mere} on me !

Oth. Amen, with all my heart !

Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.

Oth. Humph!

Des. And yet I fear you ; for you are fatal then,
When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear, I know

not,
Since guiltiness I know not ; but yet I feel I fear.

1 Thus the folio. The first quarto — rcturne : the second quarto —
relumine.

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 505

Oth. Think on thy sins.

Des. They are loves 1 bear to you.

Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest.

Des. That death's unnatural, that kills for lov

ing.—

Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip ?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame.
These are portents ; but yet, I hope, I hope
They do not point on me.

Oth. Peace, and be still !

Des. I will so. What's the matter ?

Oth. That handkerchief, which I so loved, and gave

thee,
Thou gav'st to Cassio.

Des. No, by my life and soul ;

Send for the man, and ask him.

Oth. Sweet soul, take heed,

Take heed of perjury; thou'rt on thy death-bed.

Des. Ay, but not yet to die.

Oth. Yes, presently.

Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
For to deny each article with oath,
Cannot remove, nor choke the strong conception,
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

o

Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me !

Oth. I say, amen.

Des. And have you mercy too ! I never did
Offend you in my life ; never loved Cassio,
But with such general warranty of Heaven
As I might love. I never gave him token.

Oth. By Heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand.

0 perjured woman ! thou dost stone my heart,
And mak'st me call, what I intend to do,

A murder, which I thought a sacrifice : l

1 saw the handkerchief.

1 "This line is difficult. ' Thou hast hardened my heart, and makest me

kill thee with the rage of a murderer, when I thought to have sacrificed

thee to justice with the calmness of a priest striking a victim.' I am glad

that I have ended this dreadful scene ; it is not to be endured.' — Johnson.

VOL. vn. 64

506 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VEJNTCE. [ACT V

Des. He found it, then;
I never gave it him. — Send for him hither,
And let him confess a truth.

Oth. He hath confessed.

Des. What, my lord ?

Oth. That he hath — used thee.1

Des. How ? unlawfully ?

Oth. Ay.

Des. He'll not say so.

Oth. No, his mouth is stopped ;

Honest I ago hath ta'en order for't.

Des. My fear interprets, then, — What, is he dead ?

Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.

Des. Alas ! he is betrayed, and I undone.

Oth. Out, strumpet ! weep'st thou for him to my
face ?

Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not.

Oth. Down, strumpet !

Des. Kill me to-morrow ; let me live to-night.

Oth. Nay, if you strive,

Des. But half an hour.

Oth. Being done,

There is no pause.2

Des. But while I say one prayer.

Oth. It is too late.3 [He smothers her.

Emit. [Within.] My lord, my lord ! what, ho ! my
lord ! my lord !

Oth. What noise is this ? — Not dead ? not yet quite

dead ?

I, that am cruel, am yet merciful ;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain.—
So, so.4

1 The quarto 1622 reads :—

" That he hath uds death"

2 The first quarto omits this speech.

3 After this speech of Othello, the elder quarto adds an invocation from
Uesdemona, consisting only of the sacred name thrice repeated.

4 it is supposed that some theatrical direction has boon omittod, and

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 507

Emil. {Within.'] What, ho! my lord, my lord!

Oth. Who's there ?

Emil. \Within.~\ O good my lord, I would speak a
word with you.

Oth. Yes ; — 'tis Emilia ; — by and by. — She's dead.
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.
The noise was high. — Ha ! no more moving ?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't good?
I think she stirs again. — No. — What's the best?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife.
My wife ! my wife ! what wife ? — I have no wife.
O, insupportable ! O, heavy hour !
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon ; and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.

Emil. [Within.] I do beseech you I may speak with

O good my lord !

Oth. I had forgot thee. O, come in, Emilia. —
Soft, — by and by. — Let me the curtains draw. —
Where art thou ? What's the matter with thee now ?

[Unlocks the door.

Enter EMILIA.

Emil. O good my lord, yonder's foul murder done.

Oth. What ? now ?

Emil. But now, my lord !

Oth. It is the very error of the moon :
She comes more near the earth than she was wont;
And makes men mad.

Emil. Cassio, my lord, has killed a young Venetian,
Called — Roderigo.

Oth. Roderigo killed !

And Cassio killed ?

Emil. No, Cassio is not killed.

that, when Othello says, " So, so" he renews his attempt to smother her.—
Steevens thinks it is here intended that he should stab her.

508 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V.

Oth. Not Cassio killed? Then murder's out of

tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.

Des. O, falsely, falsely murdered !

Emit. Alas ! what cry is that ?

Oth. That ! what ?

Emil. Out, and alas ! that was my lady's voice. —
Help ! help, ho ! help ! — O lady, speak again !
Sweet Desdemona ! O sweet mistress, speak !

Des. A guiltless death I die.

Emil. O, who hath done

This deed ?

Des. Nobody ; I myself; farewell.

Commend me to my kind lord ; O, farewell. [Dies.

Oth. Why, how should she be murdered ?

Emil. Alas, who knows ?

Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I.

Emil. She said so ; I must needs report the truth.

Oth. She's like a liar, gone to burning hell ;
'Twas I that killed her.

Emil. O, the more angel she,

And you the blacker devil !

Oth. She turned to folly, and she was a whore.

Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

Oth. She was false as water.1

Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say

That she was false ; O, she was heavenly true !

Oth. Cassio did tup her ; ask thy husband else.
O I were damned beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

Emil. My husband ?

Oth. Thy husband.

Emil. That she was false to wedlock ?

Oth. Ay, with Cassio.

Nay, had she been true,
If Heaven would make me such another world

1 i. e. as unstable, as deceitful. In Genesis, xlix. Jacob applies a
similar term to Reuben.

SC. II. J OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 509

Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I'd not have sold her for it.

Emil. My husband ?

Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first ; l

An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.

Emil. My husband ?

Oth. What needs this iterance,2 woman ? I say, thy
husband ! —

Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks with

love ! 3 —
My husband say that she was false ?

Oth. He, woman.

I say, thy husband. Dost understand the word ?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest lago.

Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day ! he lies to the heart ;
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

Oth. Ha!

Emil. Do thy worst.

This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,
Than thou wast worthy her.

Oth. Peace, you were best.

Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me harm,
As I have to be hurt. O gull.! O dolt !
As ignorant as dirt ! thou hast done a deed, —
I care not for thy sword ; I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives. — Help ! help, ho ! help !
The Moor has killed my mistress. Murder ! murder !

Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, and I AGO.

Mon. What is the matter ? — How now, general ?
Emil. O, are you come, lago ? You have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.

1 The folio reads, that told me on her first.

2 The quarto reads iteration. The two next speeches are omitted in
that copy.

3 Villany hath taken advantage to play upon t:e ive^^ness of a violent
passion.

510 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V

Gra. What is the matter ?

Emit. Disprove this, villain, if thou beest a man.
He says thou told'st him that his wife was false :
I know thou didst not ; thou'rt not such a villain.
Speak, for my heart is full.

lago. I told him what I thought ; and told no more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.

Emil. But did you ever tell him she was false ?

lago. I did.

Emil. You told a lie ; an odious, damned lie ;
Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lie. —
She false with Cassio ! — Did you say with Cassio?

lago. With Cassio, mistress ; go to, charm your

tongue.

Emil. I will not charm my tongue ; I am bound to

speak ;
My mistress here lies murdered in her bed.2

All. O Heavens forefend !

Emil. And your reports have set the murder on.

Oth. Nay, stare not, masters ; it is true, indeed.

Gra. ?Tis a strange truth.

Mon. O monstrous act !

Emil. Villany, villany, villany ! —

I think upon't, — I think, — I smell't; — O villany!
I thought so then ; 3 — I'll kill myself for grief. —
O villany, villany !

lago. What, are you mad ? I charge you, get you
home.

Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak ;
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. —
Perchance, lago, I will ne'er go home.

Oth. O! O! (3! [Hanging over his wife.

Emil. Nay, lay thee down, and roar ;

For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.

i is to conjure, to enchant, to lay or still as with a charm.
3, and the six following speeches, are wanting in the first

1 To charm

2 This line,
quarto.

3 That is, at the instant when she gave Desdernona's handkerchief to
laeo.

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 511

Olh. O, she was foul ! — [Rising.

I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies jour niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopped.
I know this act shows horrible and grim.

Gra. Poor Desdemona ! I am glad thy father's dead :
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now,
This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
Yea, curse his better angel from his side
And fall to reprobation.1

Olh. 'Tis pitiful : but yet lago knows
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed.2 Cassio confessed it ;
And she did gratify his amorous works
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand ;
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Emil. O heaven ! O heavenly powers !

lago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out ; — I hold my peace,

sir ? no ;

No, I will speak as liberal 3 as the air ;
Let Heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, ali, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

lago. Be wise, and get you home.

Emil. I will not.

[I AGO offers to stab his wife.

Gra. Fie !

Your sword upon a woman ?

Emil. O thou dull Moor ! that handkerchief thou

speak'st of,
I found by fortune, and did give my husband ;

1 The first and the second folio both read reprobance.

'- Dr. Johnson thinks that this and other passages in the play seem to
nippose a longer space comprised in the action of this play than the
scene includes.

;t The folio reads —

" I'll bo in speaking liberal as the north; "

i he quarto 1622 "liberal as the air." The text is formed out of the
[wo copies. Liberal here meansyree.

512 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V.

For often, with a solemn earnestness,

(More than, indeed, belonged to such a trifle,)

He begged of me to steal it.

lago. Villanous whore !

Emit. She give it Cassio ! no, alas ; I found it,
And I did give't my husband.

lago. Filth, thou liest.

Emil. By Heaven, I do not ; I do not, gentlemen ,
O murderous coxcomb ! what should such a fool
Do with so good a wife ?

[!AGO stabs EMILIA, then runs out.

Oth. Are there no stones in heaven,

But what serve for the thunder P1 — Precious villain !

Gra. The woman falls ; sure, he has killed his wife.

Emil. Ay, ay ; O, lay me by my mistress' side !

Gra. He's gone, but his wife's killed.

Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this

weapon,

Which I have here recovered from the Moor.
Come, guard the door without ; let him not pass,
But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
For 'tis a damned slave.

[Exeunt MONT AN o and GRATIANO.

Oth. I am not valiant, neither,

But. every puny whipster gets my sword. —
But why should honor outlive honesty ?
Let it go all.

Emil. What did thy song bode, lady ?

Hark, canst thou hear me ? I will play the swan,
And die in music : — Willow^ willow, willow. —
Moor, she was chaste ; she loved thee, cruel Moor ;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true ;
So speaking as I think, I die, — I die. [Dies.

Otfi. I have another weapon in this chamber ; .
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper ; 2
O, here it is. — Uncle, I must come forth.

1 The meaning appears to be : — " Has not heaven one supernumerary
bolt, to hurl directly at the head of this atrocious villain ? "

2 The particular name of the ice-brook may be determined from several
passages in Martial. (See lib. i. ep. 50, lib. iv. ep. 55.) It was probably

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 513

Gra. [Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee

dear ;
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

Oth. Look in upon me, then, and speak with me,
Or, naked as 1 am, I will assault thee.

Re-enter GRATIANO.

Gra. What is the matter ?

Oth. Behold ! I have a weapon ,

A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh. I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop. — But, O, vain boast !
Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now. —
Be not afraid, though you do see me weaponed ;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very seamark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismayed ? 'Tis a lost fear ;
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires ; where should Othello go ? —
Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starred wench ! 1
Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl ?
Even like thy chastity. —
O, cursed, cursed slave ! — Whip rne, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight !
Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur !
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire !—
O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead ?
Dead? O! O! O!

the brook or rivulet called Salo (now Xalon), near Bilbilis in Celtiberia.
In this the Spaniards plunged all their swords and other weapons while
hot from the forge ; and to the icy quality of the waters thay were sup
posed to be indebted for their stubborn temper.

1 This and the six preceding lines are omitted in the first quarto,
Wtnch originally signified only a girl or young woman.
VOL. vii. 65

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V.

Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO, CASSIO, carried in a
chair, and Officers, with IAGO, prisoner.

Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man ?

Oth. That's he, that was Othello ; here I am.

Lod. Where is that viper ? Bring the villain forth.

Oth. I look down towards his feet1 — but that's

a fable;
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.

[OTHELLO wounds IAGO.

Lod. Wrench his sword from him.

lago. I bleed, sir ; but not killed.

Oth. I am not sorry, neither; I'd have thee live;
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

Lod. O thou Othello, that was once so good,
Fallen in the practice 2 of a cursed slave,
What shall be said to thee ?

Oth. Why, any thing.

An honorable murderer, if you will ;
For nought I did in hate, but all in honor.

Lod. This wretch hath part confessed his villany.
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death ?

Oth. Ay.

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.

Oth. I do believe it ; and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray you, demand that demi-devil,
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body ?

lago. Demand me nothing. What you know, you

know;
From this time forth I never will speak word.

Lod. What ? not to pray ?

Gra. Torments will ope your lips.

Oth. Well, thou dost best.

Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befallen,
Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter,
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo ;
And here, another. The one of them imports

1 To see if, according to the common opinion, his feet be cloven.

2 In the snare, by the stratagem.

SC. II.] OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 515

The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Roderigo.

Oth. O villain !

Cas. Most heathenish, and most gross !

Lod. Now, here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too ; and this, it seems,
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain ;
But that, belike, lago, in the interim,1
Came in and satisfied him.

Oth. O, the pernicious caitiff! —

How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's ?

Cas. I found it in my chamber :

And he himself confessed, but even now,
That there he dropped it, for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his desire.

Oth. Ofool! fool! fool!

Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter, —
How he upbraids lago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came
That I was cast. And even but now he spake,
After long seeming dead, — lago hurt him,
lago set him on.

Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us ;
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, —
If there be any cunning cruelty,
That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state. — Come, bring him away.

Oth. Soft you ; a word or two, before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they know it ;
No more of that. — I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate.
Speak of me as I am ; 2 nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak

1 The first quarto reads, "in the nirk.n

2 Thus the folio. The quarto reads, " Speak of them as they are"

516 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. [ACT V.

Of one, that loved not wisely, but too well ;

Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,

Perplexed in the extreme ; of one, whose hand,

Like the base Judean,1 threw a pearl away,

Richer than all his tribe ; of one, whose subdued eyes,

Albeit unused to the melting mood,

Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees

Their medicinal gum. Set you down this ;

And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once,

Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk2

Beat a Venetian, and traduced the state,

I took by the throat the circumcised dog,

And smote him — thus. [Stabs himself.

Lod. O bloody period !

Gra. All, that's spoke, is marred.

Oth. I kissed thee, ere I killed thee. — No way but

this, [Falling upon DESDEMONA.

Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies.

Cas. This did I fear, but thought lie had no

weapon :
For he was great of heart.

3

Lod. O Spartan dog,3

More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed ; [To IAGO.

This is thy work : the; object poisons sight : —
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed to you. — To you, lord governor,
Remains the censure4 of this hellish villain ;

1 The quarto 1(i2:2 roads Indian. The folio has Judean. Warbur-
ton, Theobald, and Dr. Farmer, think that the allusion is to Herod, who
in a fit of blind jealousy threw away such a jticcl in his wife Mariarnne.
Steevens admits the reading Jin! can, but thinks the allusion is not to the
story of Herod, but to that c.f a .low, who, not being able to find a pur
chaser for a very large pearl ;;t an immoderate price, publicly threw it
into the sea at Venice.

2 It is said that it was immediate death for a Christian to strike a Turk
in Aleppo.

3 The dogs of Spartan race were reckoned among those of the most
fierce and savage kind.

4 i. e. judgment, the centence.

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 517

The time, the place, the torture, — O, enforce it !

Myself will straight aboard ; and, to the state,

This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt.

THE beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly upon the
attention of the reader, that they can draw no aid from critical illustration.
The fiery openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and credulous,
boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection, inflexible in his res
olution, and obdurate in his revenge ; the cool malignity of lago, silent in
his resentment, subtle in his designs, and studious at once of his interest
and his vengeance ; the soft simplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit,
and conscious of innocence, ner artless perseverance in her suit, and her
slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, — are such proofs of Shak-
speare's skill in human nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any
modern writer. The gradual progress which lago makes in the Moor's
conviction, and the circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are
so artfully natural, that though it will, perhaps, not be said of him as
he says of himself, that he is a man not easily jealous, yet we cannot but
pity him, when at last we find him perplexed in the extreme.

There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities,
should steal upon esteem, though it misses of approbation ; but the char
acter of lago is so conducted, that he is, from the first scene to the
last, hated and despised.

Even the inferior characters of this play would be very conspicuous
in any other piece, not only for their justness, but their strength. Cassio
is brave, benevolent, and honest, ruined only by his want of stubbornness
to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and
impatient submission to the cheats which he sees practised upon him, and
which, by persuasion, he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong picture
of a weak mind betrayed by unlawful desires to a false friend ; and the
virtue of Emilia is such as we often find, worn loosely, but not cast off,
easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at atrocious
villanies.

OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.

The scenes from the beginning to the end are busy, varied by happy
interchanges, and regularly promoting the progression of the story ; and
the narrative in the end, though it tells but what is known already, yet is
necessary to produce the death of Othello.

Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been
occasionally related, there had been little wanting to a drama of the most
exact and scrupulous regularity. JOHNSON.

THE END.

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